A Little Less Conversation
by Maxie Kay
Summary: Sequel to Personal Questions. NOW COMPLETE. A new investigation makes the team question everything and takes them almost to breaking point. Meanwhile, Deeks and Kensi realise their feelings. Thanks for all the amazing reviews and alerts! Slightly AU
1. Chapter 1

**A Little Less Conversation**

A sequel to Personal Questions

An NCIS:Los Angeles Fanfiction

Nell walked through the Ops Centre and tried not to let her eyes drift over to the empty desk. It was over three weeks since Deeks had been shot and she missed him more with each passing day. There just seemed to be such a big gap without him around the place. The rest of the team were just so intense all the time, and Nell always ended up feeling slightly inferior to them, like a little sister who was tolerated, but laughed about behind her back. Not that they did that, at least she hoped they didn't. But Deeks was different. He was genuinely nice to her and the atmosphere seemed lighter when he was around. Out of all the people in NCIS, Deeks was the one she understood best, the one she could relate to. Maybe it was because they were both new, both still on the edges of things and not fully accepted as a part of the team. And then there was the small matter of her crush. The guy was hot. Tall, slim, blond guys were Nell's particular weakness and Deeks hit all the right buttons, as far as she was concerned.

So, each time she passed his desk, Nell wished that Deeks was sitting there, that he would turn and give her one of his mischevious smiles and make her day a little bit better just by being there. But of course, he wasn't there. Deeks was in his mansion in Malibu, recovering from two bullets to the chest and then a broken rib that had punctured his lung and ruptured an artery, damage sustained while saving his partner.

Of course, Kensi was at her desk, talking on her cell-phone in a loud voice. Yet again she was saying how some guy had hit on her at the gym. Nell had noticed that she seemed to have a lot of stories on the same theme and wondered if Callen and Sam ever picked her up on that? Or maybe they were like Nell and just switched off when Kensi started another of her tales about how no man could resist her. Nell didn't really like Kensi. The woman was so confident she automatically felt inferior whenever she was around. Just seeing Kensi made Nell miss Deeks even more. Nothing was the same without him.

"What have you got there, Nell?" Kensi called out. She'd finished her phone call now and was looking straight at her. There was no escape. Damn.

Nell stiffened. "Flowers " she said shortly and tried to continue walking but it was no use. Kensi had got up and was following her. Clearly it was a slow day and she had nothing better to do.

"Oh, they're lovely. Who are they from?"

"They're not from anyone. I mean, they are, or rather they will be." Nell cursed her stumbling words and felt like a fool. "I mean, they're from me. To Deeks. I was going to drop them off after work."

"Have you spoken to him then? How's he doing? Is he okay?" Kensi sounded anxious and was speaking must faster than normal.

"Don't you know?" Nell asked. "He's your partner – I thought you would know how he was doing. Haven't you been over to see him since the hospital?" She peered over the top of the large bunch of mixed spring blooms in her arms and regarded Kensi carefully. The older woman looked drawn and tired and she avoided returning Nell's gaze.

"I've tried. I've phoned every day and left messages, but I've not heard a word from him. And I don't feel I can just go on over without being invited." She couldn't forget what Deeks had said that last night in the hospital, far less the look on his face as he said it.

"_Not now, Kensi. I'm too tired for this. Really. You can tell me later how I messed up again. I'm not going anywhere."_

"_That's not what I'm talking about! I wanted to thank you for saving my life. You didn't have to do what you did."_

"_No, I didn't. But do you know what, Kensi? I did it. I did it without thinking because you were my partner. And these past few days, I've been lying here wondering if any one of you guys would have done the same for me. Well? Would you?"_

Kensi bit her bottom lip as the memory hit home. She was still struggling to come to terms with the way she'd acted. How could she have been so callous as to make him feel like that? Why did Deeks have to get shot in order for her to realise how she felt about him? But at least she'd been able to build some bridges after that, to say something that about as close as she could get to making a commitment to her partner.

"_Whether you like it or not, we are tied together, forever. You are responsible for me and I am responsible for you. So you'd better get used to that."_

She'd left the hospital that night full of hope. The next morning crushed all her hopes. Deeks was gone, discharged into the care of his personal physician. When you were a multi-millionaire, you were able to do these things, it seemed. And since then, Kensi had felt hollow. She tried to pretend she was alright, that things were just fine, but they weren't. Everything was wrong. And she missed him so much. She missed him so much that she physically hurt. She wasn't sleeping, she was gorging on junk food and she'd not been to the gym for two weeks. Those awful hours spent waiting to hear if he would live or die had made her look at things in a completely different light. Kensi had realised that she had been fighting her feelings for Deeks all along. And just when she was ready to tell him how she really felt, he was gone.

"Can I come with you, Nell? Please?"

Against her better judgement, Nell found herself agreeing. Kensi seemed different somehow: less cocksure, more approachable and more, well _human_. She was still wary of the agent, but what could go wrong? She was Deeks' partner, she'd sat at his bedside for days when he was so ill after the second operation, of course she wanted to see him. But there was a small thought nagged persistently away at the back of Nell's mind, like a toothache just waiting to burst into agony: what if Deeks doesn't want to see Kensi? Only that was silly. Of course he would want to see her. Wouldn't he?


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks for all the amazing reviews and alerts for Personal Questions. Hope you enjoy this continuation. Just a small part to be going on with before things start to really get going._

Nell checked her watch surreptitiously: 3.50pm. Just enough time to freshen up before she had to meet Kensi. The air-conditioning in the control played havoc with her hair, but Eric insisted it was set to meet the precise requirements of his precious equipment. He seemed to be impervious to the chilly blasts of air that only a polar bear could actually tolerate in comfort. While he happily trotted around in shorts all day, Nell often had to resort to a woollen cardigan to avoid hypothermia. Who else wore cardigans in California? Still, it was a minor grumble. Apart from that, working conditions at NCIS were pretty amazing. The equipment wasn't state of the art – it was way beyond that. They had the capacity to do things that most security agencies around the world had never even thought of. Every day was exciting and Nell had already learned more than in her entire time at college, including her post-graduate studies.

She'd brought in a fresh blouse to change into, plus a marching clip to put in her hair, and it would only take a couple of moments to get changed and make sure she looked… presentable? Tidy? Nell had never thought of herself as pretty. She thought of Kensi, with her long, sleek hair and legs that went on forever and the comparison hurt. And just a little bit of her excitement about going to see Deeks died and shrivelled up. Who would look at her when Kensi was there? Kensi, who knew how to act around men, while she stammered and invariably said the wrong things. And then she remembered: She, Nell Porter, had been invited over, while all Kensi's messages went unanswered. And that had to mean something. The lady on the phone had sounded lovely, welcoming and warm. Marty was doing well, she'd said, but she thought he was lonely and it would do him good to see a friendly face. He was looking forward to seeing Nell.

That had to mean something. Only she could quite work out if Deeks really wanted to see her, and her alone, or if he was just pissed off with Kensi. Another little bit of Nell's confidence withered away. Of course, when she walked into the ladies, who should be there, but Kensi, leaning over one of the wash-hand basins and surveying herself critically.

"I look like a perfect hag." She rummaged in a make-up bag and started patting concealer onto the dark circles under her eyes. "How come you always look so perky?"

"Perky?" Nell thought that made her sound like Carol Brady or Laura Petrie or some other chipper housewife from a sitcom. She wasn't perky! She was a highly qualified intelligence analyst and just because she was young and she tried to smile and be pleasant, there was no need to be mentally classified in that way. Over the years, a good many people had warned Nell to think before speaking, so she made an effort and choked down a sarcastic response. Had anyone ever dared to give Kensi the same advice, or were they too scared? Did Kensi have the slightest idea of how intimidating she was?

The subject of Nell's wrath finished her preparations and surveyed the results with muted displeasure. "Well, I guess that's as good as it gets. You ready then?"

Giving her hair a final brush and checking that her blouse was buttoned correctly, Nell nodded. She let Kensi lead the way downstairs, for it was difficult to imagine Kensi ever willingly taking second place. Sam and Callen were waiting for them.

"You got the address, Nell?" Sam asked. He'd been a Navy SEAL before joining NCIS and Nell could imagine how impressive his muscles must have looked in a wet-suit. She wasn't entirely clear what SEALs actually did most of the time, but surely it had to involve water? And anyway, she liked the idea of Sam in a wet-suit. He was incredibly physically imposing, but Nell had a soft spot for him nevertheless. He quite often teased Kensi, which helped. Recently, he'd started pulling Kensi up for her "humble brags", which Nell had found hilarious.

"Of course I have! Caroline gave me directions – she's Deeks' housekeeper, I think. Anyway, I'm all set. I've programmed my sat-nav. I'm not going to get lost, you know."

Callen smiled. He had a nice smile, Nell thought. She liked the way his eyes crinkled up. But she was still scared of him. It was easy to imagine Callen firing a gun, killing people, for she could sense there was a ruthless streak in him, even though he repressed it most of the time. She never had the feeling about Deeks. He was different. She would trust Callen to protect her, but she trusted Deeks to look after her, and that made all the difference.

"Good planning. We'll just follow you then."

"Why would you follow me?" Nell asked, in a confused tone of voice. Did they think she needed to be protected? Was there something they weren't telling her?

"Because they're coming too," Kensi answered, before striding away to the garage, leaving Nell to trot along in her wake, feeling as if a balloon had been wrenched out of her hand and was now floating away on a breeze.


	3. Chapter 3

_Another small instalment as the plot begins to thicken. I'm blown away by everyone who has commented and added story alerts – thank you all so much._

Nell was a careful driver and her car was a compact, with great fuel efficiency. It just didn't go particularly fast. Kensi concentrated really hard on making sure she didn't let Nell see how impatient she was. It had been eight days since she had seen Deeks. Eight long days, with her mind tumbling over and over the same things, time and time again. She'd nearly blown it. She nearly got Deeks killed because she wouldn't listen. Deeks, her partner. The man she'd spent hours watching as he lay unconscious in a hospital bed, wishing things were different, wishing he was well, fantasising about his amazing body and how it might feel to have his arms around her, to be so close to him that she could feel his heartbeat, to feel the silken warmth of bare flesh pressed against bare flesh, to be able to run her fingers through his fabulous hair… And now she was going to see him at last and she could hardly contain her excitement. Only at the rate Nell drove, it would be dark by the time they got there.

In the car behind them, Sam and Callen were finding it hard to keep their speed down. Several overtaking drivers flashed them dirty looks, clearly wondering why two men in a high performance car were tootling along like a couple of grandmothers out for a day trip.

"You hear anything from him?"

Sam shook his head. "Nope. Sent over a bottle of bourbon and a survival manual – as a joke. Got a call from some lady thanking me. You?"

"Same thing. Only I got some DVDs couriered over. Action movies. Thought they might cheer him up, you know, take his mind off things. Maybe we should have gone to see him earlier? Made more of an effort?" He was still feeling bad about things. To be truthful, Callen had felt like a complete bastard when Kensi had told that Deeks felt so isolated by the team that he couldn't even trust them to cover his back.

"Possibly. Probably. We did promise Hetty, after all."

It wasn't too late. There was still time to say the things that had to be said. There was still time to make things right. "Team bonding" was a hideous phrase and they both would have cringed if it had been suggested, but the need for action was as plain to see as an elephant sitting right there between them.

"We could always crack open the bourbon and watch _Die Hard_?" Sam suggested and Callen started to laugh. There was only so much tension any one man could take before he cracked. And there was nothing like the pressure of having to talk about personal matters to make a man nervous. He'd rather have to take Hetty on at the climbing wall and be beaten soundly (again) than have to share his feelings. Men just didn't go there. Except with women, and only then if they were forced.

That was why Kensi fitted into the team so well: she wasn't like most women. She left her personal feelings behind when she came to work. You could rely on Kensi to hold her own. Except that Callen was beginning to wonder about Kensi, specifically her relationship with Deeks. She'd been tough on him, she'd kept her distance and made sure their relationship was completely professional. And yet… there was something about the way she looked at him, something in the things she didn't say. In his experience with women, which was pretty extensive, that usually meant one thing: Kensi was trying to deny her feelings. And the way she acted when Deeks had collapsed outside the hospital just added to Callen's suspicions. She was completely distraught. It was like her world had ended. Could Kensi have fallen in love with Deeks? Callen wasn't entirely sure the team could cope with that dynamic. He was absolutely certain he didn't want to have to deal with it. That climbing wall was looking better by the minute, even if it did mean getting his butt kicked by Hetty. It was a small price to pay. He was a man: he didn't do emotions. Not unless he was forced to.

"She's signalling to turn." Sam's voice broke into his thoughts. Callen followed suit and turned into a short driveway that led to high, white-painted wall with a large black gate. Nell was leaning out of the window talking into a speaker and seconds later, the gates opened, showing a curving road that meandered through manicured lawns. Ahead of them, stood the house they had previously inspected via satellite, purely in the interests of research, of course. It was even more imposing seen close up. Two stories of restrained, gloriously proportioned, immaculately maintained architectural perfection.

"The rich are different," Sam commented as they walked towards the house, feet crunching on gravel that looked to have been freshly raked that morning. Learning that Deeks was the sole heir to his late father, Gordon John Brandel, and therefore owner of a one-third share in a Fortune 500 Company was one thing: actually seeing the evidence was something else altogether. It didn't seem possible that Deeks could have all this and yet be so incredibly normal. Half the time he wandered around looking as if he was planning on going to the beach after work. Nobody would reckon he was anything other than young guy out to have fun. Maybe that was why he'd been so good in undercover ops when he was still an LAPD cop? Who could look at that wholesome face and suspect there was anything devious going on?

Nell led the way and, as they approached the shallow flight of steps that led to the double-door, a slim woman in her early sixties, with short curly hair came around the side of the house at a brisk pace, a small, shaggy dog trotting excitedly at her heels. He started dancing around on his hind legs, pushing a cold, wet nose into her hand and wagging a plumed tail in ecstatic joy.

"You must be Nell!" The woman reached out with both hands and drew Nell into an embrace. "And you've brought some friends too?" General introductions were made all around and they learned that Caroline, along with her husband Joe, had been working for the family for over thirty years. She led them through the house: a double-height hall with a staircase that swept elegantly upwards, cool, clear colours, a series of elegantly proportioned rooms, a profusion of books and photographs, a grand piano: casual luxury, effortless glamour. A series of glimpses into a life they knew nothing about. It was fascinating. The dog ran ahead of them, in a flurry of paws and fur, exiting through an open pair of French doors that led onto a terrace.

"Your visitors are here, Marty." Caroline's voice roused him from his reverie and brought him back to reality.

"I'm coming." Visitors? Caroline had only mentioned Nell. Were the others there too? Was Kensi there? Was it too much to hope that Kensi was here? He'd been thinking about Kensi so much. Caroline had mention she'd called.

Caroline: Marty didn't know what he would do without Caroline: she'd been wonderful this past week, looking after him as if he was a little boy again, making sure he was eating, nagging him when he didn't eat enough, answering all the phone calls and making sure he took his meds on time. Caroline had taken all the strain away and given him time and space to start to get himself back together again. Eighteen months ago, Marty had moved out of the house when he'd been running a long-term infiltration into a particularly ruthless gang, and somehow he'd never quite got around to moving back in again. It had seemed easier, less complicated, to stay in one or other of the apartment blocks he owned across LA and rented out via his business manager. There was usually a unit available between tenants and the impersonal, transitory nature of things had not unduly concerned him, until the shooting. That had provided the impetus to acknowledge a whole load of issues he'd been avoiding for too long and to get back on track. And for the last seven days Caroline had looked after him, mothered him, almost smothered him. She and Joe were Marty's last link to childhood, to the golden days when the Brandel family was whole, healthy and happy. But that was another time. He'd been given a chance to make a new life and he was going to grab it with both hands.

"He's lost weight," Kensi thought as Nell dashed across the room and enveloped Deeks in a bear-hug. For a moment, he buried his face in her hair and when he raised his eyes again, he met Kensi's gaze full-on. It was as if she had been hit by a burst of static electricity. He grinned at her, a slow, almost lazy grin and gently disentangled himself from Nell's arms.

"Come here?" His voice was uncertain, but Kensi didn't stop to think twice. It was all the invitation she needed. She fitted into his arms as if they were made for each other. It felt right: it felt so damned perfect she could almost have wept from sheer joy. It was just such a relief to be holding him at last, even if she could feel his ribs. Pulling back slightly, she studied him closely.

"You doing okay? I've been worried about you. And when you didn't call…"

His hand made small circles on her back. "I'm fine. I've just been sleeping a lot, and walking on the beach, trying to get myself fit again." Marty looked at her and smiled. "I should have called. I'm sorry, Kensi." His eyes were the bluest thing she had ever seen.

"I'll forgive you. This one time."

The puppy continued to dance around Nell's feet and she petted him abstractedly. Sure, Deeks liked her – like a big brother. Watching him and Kensi together, that was different. That was completely different. She could almost feel the simmering tension between them and the look of yearning of his face was close to unbearable. Why had she ever thought she stood a chance when Kensi was around?


	4. Chapter 4

Callen placed his hand briefly on her arm as he passed by. Nell's face was as easy to read as an open book. "Good to see you again, Marty. You're looking a better than the last time I saw you." That had been in Pacific West Hospital, after the second surgery, and Deeks had looked like the living dead. He still didn't look brilliant but it was one hell of an improvement.

"I feel better. Getting there, you know?"

Yes, Callen knew. He knew all about recovering from a shooting. He knew exactly what it felt like to have been shot in the chest: he knew all about it. And he didn't ever want to go there again.

"Thanks for all the gifts. Even if Caroline confiscated the bourbon."

Sam snorted. "Sounds a lot like my mom. Makes you drink a lot of milk, does she?"

"And how! Pint after pint of it, till I feel like it's coming out of my ears. I tried to persuade her to heat the stuff up and stick a shot of bourbon in, but she was having none of it. Joe let slip where she's hiding it though and I've not given up all hope."

Kensi started to scrabble around in her purse. "That reminds me, my mom sent this over. Said it helps with the healing and boosts your immune system." Her fingers finally located a small bottle and she produced it with a flourish. "Echinacea drops. Mom swears by them. Says she hasn't had a single cold since 1998."

Deeks looked genuinely pleased. "That's really kind of her. Let me have her address and I'll write to say thank you." His mother had always been insistent on good manners and there was still a stack of headed note-paper still in the top right-hand drawer of her desk. She would have made him write, if she'd been here. Kensi must have told her mother about him. Was that good or bad? What had she said? Had she called him her partner, or her friend? Pulling his wits together, he was relieved when Caroline came in with a tray of coffee.

"No milk?" he asked with a cheeky grin.

"I thought that, seeing you have been very good today, I would allow you one cup of coffee," Caroline replied tartly, but softened her words with a smile. Marty was the nearest thing she had to a son and she was determined to make sure he got better, whether he liked it or not.

"You'd get on really well with my mom," Sam chortled. "She could always keep all eight of us kids in control with just one look." He rarely gave away anything about his private life but this had just slipped out somehow. The Hannahs had not been wealthy and their small house sometimes seemed as if would burst at the seams, especially as they'd all grown older and brought friends around. Eight kids plus eight friends made for a big crowd, and a noisy one too. But everyone had always been welcome and the evening meals could be stretched to feed a few more hungry mouths, as long as nobody minded filling up on crusty home-made bread. To this day, the smell of fresh bread always made Sam think of home.

"I didn't know you were one of eight. Where about do you come in the family?"

"I'm the eldest." And that meant taking on responsibility at an early age: Looking after the little ones, helping his Dad do outside shores, getting a job after school. As he'd grown older, Sam had seen how tight money was and he'd been determined to help out. His parents were good people; they'd brought up their children to act, not sit around and complain. If something was wrong, you fixed it. It was as simple as that. So it just seemed natural that two weeks after graduating from high school Sam had enlisted in the Navy. It was a family tradition – his old man had done a couple of tours in the sixties, before he'd got married - and it meant that Sam was earning a decent salary and learning stuff at the same time. At first, he'd thought he might train as a mechanic, have a good trade to go into when his term was up. But the Navy had other plans for Sam Hannah and he'd found himself drafted into the SEALs. And eventually, he'd moved onto NCIS. His career hadn't been exactly what he'd planned, but Sam had no complaints.

"Youngest," Deeks said. Chris had been dead for fifteen years, but he would always be his big brother. Memories of Chris were all around the room, throughout the house. It didn't seem possible that he was now older than Chris had been when that bomb blew him up in Iraq. He still felt like Chris was looking after him, looking out for him. It was hard to realise that Chris was dead. Marty still missed him, missed being a little brother, and missed having someone to look up to. Maybe things would have been different if Chris had lived, but when there is an eight year gap between brothers, it was hard not to hero-worship your older sibling.

"Same here." It didn't matter that Callen could not remember his sister, the very fact that he had once had a sister was enough. It gave him some sort of background, some sort of feeling of belonging. They shouldn't have been separated: they should have been kept together. He tried not to think about how different things might have been. If only – and those were the saddest words in the world.

"Middle child – older sister, younger brother," Nell added. She'd heard people say that the middle child often got overlooked, but if anything it was the reverse in her family. She was the child who never caused her parents any worry, the child in the accelerated learning programme. While she envied her sister's gift for making friends easily and her brother's skill at athletics, they had wished that they could absorb facts and concepts as readily as Nell, so things evened out. They all looked at Kensi expectantly.

"Only child," she admitted. That had always made her feel special – there were no other siblings to compete for her parent's attention. And living on Marine bases meant she'd always had plenty of other kids around for company. Camp Pendleton still felt like home and she went back as regularly as she could. She might drop hints about wild parties but, three weekends out of four, Kensi went home to her Mom and just enjoyed spending time with her, helping in the garden, going for walks. Her Mom was the most important person in her life, she always had been, but their bond had tightened after her father died.

"I've persuaded my doctor to let me come back to work day after tomorrow. Desk duties only, but it'll be a start. I'm going stir crazy sitting around here, doing nothing all day."

"We still need to have that conversation about security," Sam said. "Seriously. Got to make sure you're up to speed. We take care of our own and we can't have you letting down the good reputation of the team." Three weeks ago, he would have said it differently. Three weeks ago Deeks would have taken it all differently. But they had all moved on from. They were starting to know one another properly and that could only help. Finally, they were a team.

Deeks tried to look resigned, but his eyes were sparkling. "If we must. I read that survival manual you sent and I'm pretty sure I've got the whole "skinning a squirrel" bit down pat. Which came in pretty handy yesterday afternoon when Bobby here had one cornered on the terrace, actually." The dog picked up his ears at the mention of his name.

"You didn't!" Nell gasped. She'd being toying with the idea of becoming a vegetarian. "You couldn't do something like that?" She sounded genuinely upset and Deeks rushed to reassure her.

"No, Nell – the squirrel was just fine. Bobby just wanted to be friends with it and was highly disappointed when it ran up a tree."

Sam decided to bring the conversation back on track. "Tomorrow morning then? We don't want to give Callen any more gray hairs worrying about you."

"Whereas you just shave your head so we can't see any incriminating evidence?" Kensi asked sweetly. Two days! Just two days and he'd be back at work, back sitting beside her, back where he belonged.

Deeks laughed and then put his arm around Nell's shoulders. "It's good to see you guys. It's good to be back."


	5. Chapter 5

Two days later, and Kensi and Callen arrived at the Mission together.

"No Sam? I thought you guys car-pooled?" The sun was shining, Deeks was due back to work: all in all it was a good day and Kensi was almost skipping as they walked together.

"Not today. He called last night and said he had something to do this morning and he'd make his own way in."

Kensi's eyes sparkled. "Think he got lucky? Met some lady and decided to change his plans?"

"No," Callen shook his head. "No, I don't think so. I asked, but he wasn't giving anything away. You know Sam and how secretive he can be about his private life. Man's like an oyster the way he can clam shut. But I reckon it just might have to do with Deeks and making sure he's safe."

"So you reckon he'll go over to Deeks' place and drive him in?" It made sense, who knew how Deeks would feel after his first day back, he could easily be too tired to drive home that evening. Kensi was torn: she wanted Deeks back, but she was concerned it was too soon.

"Well, something like that." Callen was pretty sure his partner had something altogether more devious in mind. But right now he was content to sit back and watch how things played out.

It was nearly an hour later when Sam arrived. Alone. He didn't seem in a particularly good mood.

"Deeks is back today, right?" His voice was terse and his face was grim.

Kensi knew a loaded question when she heard one. "So he said." She carefully made her tone as non-committal as possible. Seemed like something was going on, something that had pissed Sam off and she didn't want to make matters worse. But she was beginning to get worried. Had something happened to Marty– again?

"Forget to set your alarm clock, did you?" Callen asked. He had no such qualms about riling Sam.

Sam just shook his head.

"Too many margaritas last night?"

"I don't drink margaritas." Sam said shortly. He was clearly getting tired of this.

Callen was enjoying himself hugely and wasn't about to give up just yet. There were a few more ounces of fun he could ring out of the situation. "Farmers' Market maybe? There has to be some reason you're an hour late, doesn't there?" Okay, maybe it was time to let the guy off the hook.

"If you must know, I was checking in on Deeks, alright?" Sam knew when he was beaten. And right now he was lying face down in the dirt, with Callen sitting on top of him while Kensi did a victory dance in the background.

"Checking…?" Kensi let the rest of the sentence lie unspoken in the air between them.

"I was watching his back."

Now the truth was out! "You were trying to catch him out!" Callen said gleefully.

"Look, the guy got shot because he doesn't alter his routine. I wanted to make sure the message on personal security, being this is his first day back."

"And?" Callen knew he was being provocative, but he was starting to get worried now.

"And I've been waiting for him to leave home. Guess Deeks must have slept through his alarm."

Kensi was really worried now, but she forced her voice to stay light and to act as if she was unconcerned, even though her guts were twisting up into a coil. "Better call him then."

A few seconds later, they could all hear a muffled ringtone. Coming from somewhere directly behind Sam. "That's my bag!" He reached around and pulled his backpack over, opened it and pulled out a cell phone. It was only with the greatest of effort that his jaw did not drop open.

"That'd be for me." Without missing a single beat, Deeks walked in casually and neatly swiped the cell from Sam's nerveless fingers. Pressing the receive button, he answered the call.

"Marty Deeks."

"Hey, it's Kensi here!" She grinned happily at him and Sam leaned back in his chair with a small sigh. He'd been had. He'd been set up.

"How did you get your phone into Sam's bag?" Kensi asked. Deeks was here and he was safe. She had to stop worrying about him, but it was difficult.

Deeks took a leisurely sip of his coffee. One great thing about being back at work was there was no Caroline to take away his coffee and insist he drank milk instead. And the other great thing was seeing the smile on Kensi's face. Actually, now he came to think about it, that was better: miles better. "I must have slipped it in while he was standing in line for coffee." He looked at Sam guilelessly. "Medium drip, low fat, hold the foam, right?"

"You didn't follow me." Sam was certain of that. Quite certain. There was no way Deeks had followed him. He would have known if Deeks had followed him – would he?

"Alright," Deeks said easily, "I didn't follow you. I staked out the coffee shop."

Sam snorted. "I use three different coffee shops. A different one every day." He gave Deeks a challenging glare.

"He did get his phone into your bag," Callen reminded him.

"I would have seen him."

Kensi plastered an innocent expression onto her face. "But you didn't!"

A shrill blast split the tension and they all looked over to where Eric stood on the stairs, waving impatiently. It was time to go to work.

"Welcome back, partner, "she said and got a blinding smile in response.

Callen hung back and grabbed hold of Deeks' arm. "Who did you pay and how much did it cost you?"

"Schoolkid. Twenty bucks." Unseen by Sam, they shared a high five and then went to see what the latest call of business was about. Things were back to normal.


	6. Chapter 6

Hetty looked worried, but she broke off from staring at the view screen when they came into the Ops Centre. "Welcome back, Mr Deeks. You have been missed."

Deeks held her gaze for a few seconds and then ducked his head down, suddenly bashful.

"Mr Hannah – your alias Hakim Fayed has been contacted. A message has been sent to the email address set up by Abdul Habaza, before he went to Yemen."

There was a new game in play, and this one had a special meaning for Sam. Abdul Habaza – the man he'd tagged with a chemical signature known as Overlock, that allowed them to track his location remotely. Habaza was the man who had killed Mo – but not before torturing him, leaving the boy strung up like an animal in a low-rent motel room. Sam wanted revenge. Hetty had promised him revenge. She had explicitly promised him revenge.

"_There will be a time and a place for what you want, and I promise you that you will have it."_

The time had arrived, and it looked like he would be travelling to Yemen. Immediately. There was no time to lose. Overlock was starting to break down and already the signal was untraceable in a heavily built-up area. There were only a few days left before it decomposed completely.

"We are hoping Abdul will lead us to his brother, Sadat. We have reason to believe he is in the south of the country." Hetty stepped aside and let Nell and Eric continue with the briefing. She was concerned that Sam would find it hard to separate his feelings from this mission. There was a lot at stake for him personally, but they had a chance to finally get to the core of Warriors for Islam and destroy the terrorist group once and for all. And that was all that mattered. Personal feeling could not be allowed to enter into the equation. This was not an operation that could be jeopardised.

Sam would leave later that day for Yemen. His ticket and fake passport had already been arranged by one of Abdul's contacts, a man named Fanning. Like most people who came into contact with Abdul, Fanning was disposed of as soon as he had outlived his usefulness. Dead men tell no tales. And yet Hetty was concerned. Something told her that Sam was in danger.

"Any evidence, no matter how slight, that your cover has been compromised and I want you out of there on the next flight, do you understand?" Sam had no choice but to agree.

Hetty had an agent on already on the ground in Yemen, Callen was going as back-up, and a call to Leon Vance, Director of NCIS, ensured that CIA co-operation was in place. And yet, she was worried. Something told her that there was a danger that Sam's identity had been compromised. Kensi and Deeks were dispatched to find out what they could. It was routine work, desk work. It wouldn't be too much for Marty. He'd be fine. And he might just help to save Sam's life.

"Sam will do what needs to be done," Callen reassured her.

"that and nothing more. And, if necessary, much less. I need to know that he can walk away, if that is what required. This is not about avenging Mo's death."

"I know that."

"Please make sure that he does." Hetty was leaving no room for doubt. This operation was critical. Hetty had known something was developing in Yemen, she'd sent Nate there a week before. That in itself was a risk. Nate and Abdul Habaza had known one another in Oakville Prison, an encounter that had culminated in Nate being fatally stabbed, to facilitate Abdul's escape. It had been a ruse, of course. There was an inherent danger in her plan, for Nate could be compromised, but that was a risk Hetty had to take. She needed him there to run intelligence, to liaise with the Ops Centre here in LA. She needed someone she could trust.

The dead forger, Fanning, was the only lead they had to go on, so that was what Kensi and Deeks concentrated on. Only they weren't getting far. They had no suspects in his shooting, no weapon – not a single clue. Nothing. Something had to be missing. There had to be something to tie him to Abdul Habaza. If only they could figure it out.

Kensi got up, her back stiff from leaning over a laptop for too long and started to pace. Just watching her made Deeks feel tired. He hadn't realised how much the shooting had taken out of him.

"Abdul set up the meet with Fanning, right?" Kensi suddenly said.

"Right. Maybe before he left the country?" They'd got it. Now, all they needed to do was to track down a location, within a definite timeframe. Abdul had only been in Yemen for a week. The trail here in LA was still relatively fresh and that meant tracing his whereabouts was actually easier than it sounded. The Overlock signature gave them an exact record of his whereabouts, and shoed the most likely place to start was a motel near the airport.

The motel was like some run-down throw-back to the nineteen seventies, the decade that taste forgot. It clearly wasn't the first choice for tourists, or anyone else, come to that. Which was a point in its favour, as it meant that there were only three rooms occupied in their timeframe. Sadly all three occupants were quickly ruled out. The manager had an incredible memory for names and faces and they all checked out as innocent parties, even if they were singularly lacking in taste when it came to a choice of accommodation. That only left room 117, which was occupied by some guy called Felix, the night-manager. Kensi could feel her adrenaline levels start to build up. Could it really be this easy?

"Felix! These cops want to talk to you!" The motel owner wasn't exactly subtle. Felix looked edgy.

"Witness or suspect?" Kensi asked.

"Suspect." Deeks was certain. The guy was on edge and… and he was running. Damn. "Make that a prime suspect," he amended, as Felix leapt into a car. Ignoring the pain in his chest, Deeks grabbed a hold of Kensi and pulled her to cover as the vehicle drove straight at them. Guns unholstered in a second, they exchanged a brief glance.

"Ready?" It was a mere courtesy, a needless formality.

Kensi nodded. They were working together, as smooth as butter. There was only one outcome. Felix didn't know it, but he was already history. Another check between partners, a rapid count-down and they rose up, firing rapidly. It was all over in less than ten seconds.

"Scratch Felix," Deeks confirmed, after making sure there was no pulse. By his count, at least four bullets had hit Felix in the chest. High-calibre bullets, designed to kill, not to incapacitate. Felix had been a dead man the moment he started running.

Room 117 was practically bare. The only personal possession in plain sight was a laptop. Otherwise, it was as if the man had merely checked in minutes before, rather than living there for over a year. And that was immediately suspicious. Kensi powered up the laptop, leaving Deeks to prowl around the room.

"No big-screen TV," he commented and wandered over to the fridge. "No beer. No old pizza boxes either. And no piles of week-old clothes lying in corners. This is very un-American!"

"PC's configured in Arabic," Kensi confirmed. This was growing better by the second, She was certain this guy had some connection to Abdul. All they needed was some definite evidence. She checked the laptop bag, rifling through the various pockets and pouches. It didn't take long to uncover a passport, a Yemeni passport in the name of Sadat Habaza. They had struck pay dirt. It was time to report back to Hetty.

"That's why Sadat hasn't been seen in Yemen," Kensi explained. "He's been here all along. Working as a motel manager and calling himself Felix."

"He thought he was safe, so he got sloppy," Deeks added. "Cocky bastard."

Hetty frowned. Her inner fears were getting stronger.

"Nell, how hard is it to run a terrorist group from the other side of the world?" Deeks asked, trying valiantly to keep the exhaustion out of his voice. He felt completely done in. All he wanted was a hot shower and a soft bed. And maybe a shot of bourbon. Not necessarily in that order.

"It's virtually impossible. I think Sadat was a misdirect." Nell thought for a moment, assessing the facts, rearranging all the information. "The only thing that makes sense is that the real leader of the Warriors of Islam is Abdul Habaza."

All the slots lined up. They had hit the jackpot.

"Please inform Mr Callen immediately. Tell him to exercise extreme caution." When Nell had left, Hetty turned to her agents. "There is nothing here left for you to do today. I will need you tomorrow morning at 7am promptly, so go home now. That's an order," she added, when it looked as if Kensi might protest. "And, Miss Blye, if I might suggest, perhaps you would so good as to give Mr Deeks a lift?"

Deeks had found a chair in the corner. He'd only meant to close his eyes for a second, but then next thing he knew was Kensi shaking his shoulder gently.

"Hey partner, it's time to get going. Hetty's orders. I'm to take you home."

"You won't get any protest from me." He shook his head sleepily and followed her out of Ops, stumbling slightly as he tried to get his body to work normally.

The night air was soft and warm when they arrived in Malibu, the wine-dark sea lapping at sands turned the colour of dark amber by the setting sun. Standing at the entrance to Deeks' house, the scent of lavender and roses was all around.

"You look tired."

"I am." No use in pretending, especially to Kensi.

"We worked well today, I mean, we worked well together. We're a good team."

"The best. Night, Kensi. Thanks for the ride."

He leaned forward and brushed his lips across her cheek. It would have so simple to lift up her hands, put them on either side of his face and turn her head so that her lips met his, but Kensi resisted. It took every ounce of strength in her body, but she resisted. "Night, Marty." She watched as he went inside and then turned and walked over to her car.

Deeks held onto the bannister rail as he went upstairs, only too aware of how unsteady his legs were. That shoot-out at the motel had taken every last bit of energy he had and he was running on empty. A shower and then a solid eight hours sleep would sort him out. Plus a couple of espressos tomorrow morning. And maybe a couple of pain pills. He pulled off his clothes as he made his way to the shower, leaving a trail across the bedroom floor. He'd have to remember to pick them up tomorrow morning, or Caroline would have something to say. She had never cut him any slack.

The shower was a powerful one, and the jets of hot water helped to take some of the tensions out of his muscles. Marty stood for a long time, just letting the water soothe his aching body. Eventually, he had to make a move, so he shook his head, sending droplets across the room and wrapped a towel around his waist.

The lights in the bedroom were dim, but not so dim that he couldn't see there were no longer any clothes lying strewn every which way. Some was there. Someone was in his house, right here in his room. His gun – where had he left his gun? Damn, he'd got sloppy again. One day back and he'd messed up already.

"Looking for this?" She was leaning with her back against the door, the gun dangling from her hand. And she was smiling.

"Kensi!" He could have cried – with relief, with tiredness – who cared?

"I was worried about you. I wanted to make sure you were alright, partner." She ran her tongue slowly over lips that were suddenly dry. She'd never felt this nervous before. What if she'd got it wrong? What if he wasn't interested? Oh God, what a fool she was. But how good did he look, with that smooth golden chest and that face, that glorious face.

"I'm fine. Now you're here." He walked slowly across room and placed both his hands above her shoulders, so that he was leaning over her, braced against the door. So close that his breath caused tendrils of her hair to move ever so gently. Marty let his arms take the strain from his legs, which were unaccountably sense in falling over now. Not now, please God don't let me fall over now!

"Good." Kensi's hand was on the nape of his neck and she was still smiling. She was staring straight into his eyes. "I told you, I'm responsible for you. It's my duty, you see." Her left hand was gently tracing the lines of the two scars on the right hand side of his chest.

Marty bit his lip to stop himself from screaming out loud. "I see. And how do I seem?" he teased.

"Oh, I think you're just fine." Her fingers had moved lower, they were dancing suggestively along the line of his hip-bone. "Just fine," she repeated in a low voice and suddenly she could bear it no longer. Kensi gently pulled Marty's head down towards her and let her tongue run gently over his bottom lip. And that was it. In one instant they were kissing, kissing deeply and then breaking away to look at one another, before starting all over again. Long kisses, kisses that had no beginning and no end, but just were, entire and perfect in and of themselves.

"Why did we wait so long?" Kensi whispered, once she had recovered her voice.

"I told you, I'm a slow learner," he replied huskily.

"We've got all night." Suddenly she was aware that his arms were still braced on the door and they were trembling. "Why don't you go on over to the bed?" He nodded and walked slowly across the room. He looks as good from behind as he does face-on, Kensi thought. Such a cute butt. Even his hair looked good, despite the fact he'd not even bothered to comb it. How could any one guy be some damned perfect? And that tan. At last she was going to find out exactly how far that tan went. Her money was on an all-over, no holds barred, top to toe version.

This was even better than she'd ever imagined. It kicked her "Deeks in his boxer shorts" fantasy right out of the game. This was really going to happened. Suddenly shy, she turned her back and began to unbutton her blouse, kicking off her boots at the same time.

"Marty?" There was no answer. "Marty?" She turned around to discover him lying face down on the bed, head buried in the pillows, sound asleep. She'd cut him a little slack, after all he had been shot recently. Four weeks ago, she'd sat at his bedside in ICU and willed him not to die. What was a little more waiting? Apart from being incredibly frustrating, of course.

Deeks mumbled in his sleep and rolled over onto his side. Taking care not to disturb him, Kensi lay down carefully beside her partner, wrapped her arms around him and held him, burying her face in his neck and relishing the closeness. She was not renowned for her patience, but some things were worth waiting for.


	7. Chapter 7

A shaft of sunlight, falling directly onto his face, awoke Deeks the next morning. How come the sun was shining? That wasn't right. He always pulled the curtains, so how come the sun was shining right in his face? God, he was sore. His whole body ached. He'd done too much yesterday and now he was paying the price.

Yesterday! He tried to sit upright, but a searing pain from the operation scar stopped that little manoeuvre before he'd managed to do much more than raise his shoulders off the pillows. Yup, definitely did too much yesterday. Oh God, now he remembered. Last night, in this room, he and Kensi…

"Good morning!" Kensi said, in a suspiciously bright tone of voice as she came into the room, carrying two cups of coffee. She was wearing one of his t-shirts. "I thought you might need this."

Deeks propped himself up on his elbows and watched as she put one cup on the bedside table and then moved over to sit on the broad seat that lined the bay window. Sipping the drink slowly, Kensi looked outside and savoured the view, only too aware that her partner was in a state of complete confusion. Damn, but he was cute, lying there all sort of rumpled-looking. Bed-head hair really suited him.

"Where did you get the coffee," he asked, having finally managed to get himself up into a sitting position. He grabbed the cup and took a long draught. The pain meds were lying on the bedside table too and he wondered if he could sneak some without her seeing.

"From the kitchen," Kensi said. She knew where he was going with this line of enquiry. "From Caroline."

Oh no. "What did she say?" he asked weakly.

"Caroline? She said "Good morning, Miss Blye: would you like some coffee?"" Kensi responded blandly. She kept a straight face for at least twenty seconds before breaking down into peals of laughter. "Honestly Marty, you might be a schoolboy caught out sneaking a girl back to his parents' house."

This is my parents' house, Kensi. Don't you remember?"You know what I mean. Caroline's known me since before I was born, she's looked after me since I was a baby and…"

She moved over and sat beside him on the bed. It was a real effort not to reach out and run her fingers through that incredible hair, but she restrained herself. There would be a time for that later on. If there was a God in heaven, there would be a time for that later on. But not too much later, please. "And Caroline knows you're a grown man."

_If Caroline had been surprised when Kensi walked in to the kitchen wearing a baggy t-shirt with the words "Surf's Up" emblazoned across the chest, she had hidden it very well. She'd offered to make coffee, and after one look at the complex machine, Kensi had agreed. Clearly one needed to be a barista to get a cup of coffee in the Deeks household._

"_You won't let him do too much, will you?" Caroline's back was turned as she busied herself with the coffee machine._

"_I won't. None of us will. We're all looking out for him."_

"_Good. Because I worry about him." Caroline had turned around at that point and looked directly at Kensi. "I worry about him getting hurt again. We thought we were going to lose him." Her meaning was as clear as the seas that lapped the Malibu beach._

"_I will never let him get hurt again," Kensi had said firmly and with complete conviction, and Caroline had nodded, seemingly content with that._

"_t's just that I can't help worrying about him," she had added, starting to foam the milk for the coffee. "I worry that he's all alone."_

_Kensi had walked across the kitchen, the tiles cool on her bare feet and laid her hand on the older woman's shoulders. "He's not alone. Not anymore. He's got me now. And I won't let anyone hurt him again. Ever. I promise you."_

_By this time, the coffee was ready. Before Kensi could go, Caroline had given her arm a pat. "You've been very kind – to Marty and to me. Thank you for indulging me and listening to my worries. I'm very glad Marty's got you." Kensi had left the kitchen and gone back upstairs with a skip in step, feeling absurdly pleased._

"All Caroline wants is to make sure you are alright."

"And am I?" He was suddenly uncertain.

Kensi leant forward and took the coffee cup out of hands, and put it out of harms way. "Oh yes, indeed you are. You are most certainly alright." She nibbled gently at his bottom lip, let her tongue slip into his mouth. Marty responded with a ferocity that surprised her, pulling her into a close embrace. Everything was alright.

"About last night," he said, some moments later, once he'd recovered his breath.

Kensi leaned back against the headboard, one hand tucked into his. "What about last night? Nothing happened."

"That's what I mean. I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" She couldn't resist teasing him a little, just because she loved the way he looked.

"For basically passing out on you. I didn't want to, you do understand that? You know I wanted to… to be with you. It's just that…"

She silenced him with another kiss. "It's just that you are a complete idiot and did far too much on your first day back. And I'm an idiot for letting you. So we're even, okay?"

"Okay. If you say so?"

"I say so." It would have been nice if they could have stayed lying side by side in the king-sized bed all day, but Marty caught sight of the clock and gave a strangled yelp.

"We're going to be late and Hetty will kill us!" He pushed the covers aside and realised he was completely naked. "I was wearing a towel last night, wasn't I?" Deeks asked accusingly.

"You were," Kensi agreed. "Egyptian cotton, pale blue if I remember correctly."

"And? What happened to my towel?"

"I hung it up to dry. I couldn't let you risk getting a chill, could I?" She grinned at him. "Never had you down as the easily embarrassed sort, Deeks."

What was there to lose? He'd already let her get closer than any woman had ever got. "I'm not. I was just wondering, that's all." He got out of bed and strolled slowly across the bedroom. At the threshold of the bathroom, he stopped and looked back over his shoulder. "Attention to detail, my dear Kensi. I'm just staying on guard and paying attention to detail."

And so am I, Kensi thought, letting her eyes fixate on his taut butt. And so am I, my dear, dear Marty.


	8. Chapter 8

The roads were still relatively empty, this early on in the morning, so they actually made the journey to the Mission in pretty good time, arriving just before seven.

"Nice shirt, Kensi!" Eric called out as they entered Ops centre together. "Didn't I see Deeks wearing that last month?" She scowled darkly at him and strode into the room to inspect the latest satellite images from Yemen. Overlock had placed Sam and Abdul in a remote location in the south of the country. It looked to pretty inhospitable terrain, and thus ideal for a terrorist hide out. Another marker showed Callen was in the hills overlooking the camp.

"Glad you've noticed my sartorial elegance, Eric," Deeks replied smoothly. "Want me to give you a few tips sometime?" He joined Kensi at the screen and studied the information intently.

Eric knew when he was on a hiding to nothing. "Okay, sit rep time: I've just managed to break the code on Sadat's laptop last night. And it's not good news." Images flashed onto the screen. Photographs of Nate, their NCIS agent in Yemen. "Looks like Nate's been compromised."

Kensi blanched. This was bad news. She hated being stuck here, on the other side of the world while her team-mates were in danger. Above anything else, she hated this feeling of helplessness. "If Nate's been compromised, that means Sam is compromised too. It's a trap and we've walked straight into it."

"An accurate summary of the current situation, Miss Blye." Hetty had stayed on duty at the Mission all night, but she looked as neat and composed as ever. "This whole sorry operation is nothing but a trap and I am getting a little tired of people using **my** agents as bait for their own nefarious purposes. A captured US federal agent is a powerful tool. Two captured agents are exponentially more powerful yet." She turned to her remaining agents. "Get Nate out of there right now."

The game had changed. Speed was now of the essence and finesse flew out of the window. "Miss Jones: get Director Vance on the phone and tell him I need that authorisation **now**." It was time to call in the big guns. The readiness is all, as dear Hamlet so rightly said. And now it was time to start playing in earnest. Only this time, it was in defensive mode. Hetty started to issue orders.

"Callen? Sam has been compromised. Abort the mission. Do you understand? Abort the mission. That is a direct order, do you understand? Please confirm."

There was a fair amount of static on the line, but not so much that they could not hear the reluctance in his voice. "Confirm. And the boy?"

"The boy is expendable." She was paid to make difficult decisions and Hetty had never shied away from them. You did what had to be done at the time and then you moved on. You dealt with the repercussions later. But that poor child, seven years old and kidnapped, to try to set off a chain of events that would involve the Saudi government in Warriors for Islam's power game. That was highly regrettable. His death would lie festering in her deepest thoughts for some time. And yet there was no choice. When it came to the life of a US federal agent – her agent – and an innocent child, there was only one choice to make. That was what duty to country ultimately meant. Hetty made her decisions because she was looking at the bigger picture; because she knew what would happen if she shied away from making those hard choices. Nobody had ever said that being patriotic was easy.

* * *

><p>A camp, somewhere In Yemen<p>

The moment he saw Abdul's face, Sam knew the game was up. All along, he had wondered why the son of a Saudi Prince was involved in this, and now he knew. The boy had not been kidnapped because Warriors for Islam needed ransom money, nor was he to be used in a prisoner exchange. No, Amir's sole purpose was to be the bait that dragged Sam into things. He'd been had, Sam realised. He had allowed himself to be used as bait. What price security now? How come his much vaunted state of heightened awareness had not alerted him to this possibility? Simple. The moment Sam had learned the boy was involved, he knew he had to get the child out. It wasn't right to put a small boy into a gang of lawless fundamental terrorists and how could he not involved? How could he treat Amir as just another pawn in the game of international espionage and just leave him to his fate? Besides which, Amir was the same age as his own son, and Sam couldn't stop thinking about Crosby, thinking about how his own son would feel in the same situation. Any father would feel the same way. Any decent father, that was.

Callen watched the scene playing out from his vantage point in the hills above the camp. This wasn't good and it threw the back-up plan completely out of kilter. Abdul had finally put all his cards on the table and now Sam and Amir were trapped like a couple of rats. This whole operation had been a mess from the start and it was getting worse by the second.

_Stop thinking. Stop thinking and just do something. Anything. Get your butt in gear, Callen. That's your partner down there and he's laying his ass on the line._

Grabbing his gear, Callen sprinted over to the SUV and drove down the precipitous mountain road as if all the hounds of hell were after him. He had a plan. It was rough and ready, but it was a plan.

Sam analysed the situation dispassionately. He had no weapon, he was vastly outnumbered and there was an automatic rifle pointed directly at Amir's head. They were going to shoot the boy and capture the whole hideous thing on camera. No doubt they would then force him to also go on camera and then Warriors for Islam would broadcast the footage around the world. What a God Almighty mess he'd walked into. Sam knew that eventually he would give in to their demands and make a statement to camera, relaying their demands to the world. There was only so much torture any one man could bear before he gave in. Everyone had their breaking point. He could try to stall for time, but Sam knew that, in the end, he would break. It was inevitable.

However, there was still one single thing on Sam's side. One NCIS Special Agent, known by the name of Callen. A good man to have on his side. If anyone could help him, it would be Callen.

_You seeing this, G? I could do with a little help right now. Don't feel like you have to wait for an invite or anything like that._

Callen gunned the engine as he belted into the camp, setting the revs screaming and jamming the accelerator pedal down to the floor before hurtling out of the door. He hit the ground hard, automatically rolling over the stony ground to lessen the immediate impact. Even so, it felt every single bone in his body was jarred. The SUV careened into a ramshackle building to his left, which promptly collapsed. The diversion gave Callen just enough time to get to his knees and toss a weapon over to his partner.

And the mayhem began. Automatic fire ran out across the camp. Abdul's men had the firepower, but they lacked the technique. In fact, they were hopeless. Seeing his men fall like dominoes, Abdul turned and ran, like a dog with its tail between its legs. His Warriors had fallen, but he could still get out.

"Catch!" Callen flung the scope over to Sam and grabbed his cell in the same movement. "Hetty? WE need authorisation. We need authorisation RIGHT NOW."

Her voice was as cool as if she was ordering lemonade. "Granted"

"Sam? We have a green light."

The target was locked and identified. All that he needed to do was to press the trigger and it would all be over. Abdul would vanish into the dust. This whole damned mess would be over and he go home, go home to his son. And yet, Sam hesitated.

"SAM!" Callen yelled.

Such a small action. It only took the movement of one finger to create oblivion. One tiny movement and it was all over. The reverberation could be felt as the explosive sent the Abdul's vehicle into the void. The cloud of dust and flame would be visible for miles, certainly visible to the drone lying overhead and recording everything for their colleagues back home. It was over. A small hand touched his own, and Sam looked down to see Amir close by his side, smiling shyly up at him. It hadn't been a complete mess. A little boy was going home today. He gently squeezed the child's hand and led him over to the SUV. It was kind of battered, but Callen had got the engine running. They were all going home. Sometimes, you couldn't ask for any more than that.

Later, as they drove along a desert road, Callen asked the question that had been bugging him for hours. "Why did you hesitate back there?" He had to know the answer. Sam had nearly let Abdul get away and then in a few months' time, the guy would have come back with more men willing to lay down their lives for him and his cause. Sam had nearly screwed up the whole operation. Hetty had been right to voice her doubts: Sam had got to close this time.

"I had to know why I was squeezing the trigger. Whether I was doing it for revenge or justice." Sam leaned his head back and stared at the wide expanse of sand in front of him.

"And?"

_Sometime you think too much, Sam. Sometimes you've got to learn to go with your gut. Thinking too much can get you killed. There are times when you just have to act and then deal with the consequences later on. Do you think I had the luxury of thinking back there? No – I had to get you out of there. That's all I could think about. You had a job to do – and you damned near copped out of it. Your job was to squeeze the trigger and nothing else. Your personal feelings should never have come into the equation._

"Justice. I hope." He was weary now and all Sam wanted was to go home to Crosby and hold his son close.


	9. Chapter 9

The sense of relief back in LA was palpable. It was never easy watching action unfold remotely, even if that action was taking place just a few blocks away. When it was happening half-way across the world, on an entirely different continent, the tensions were that much higher.

"Book Mr Callen and Mr Hannah on the first flights home, please, Miss Jones. Or perhaps you might speak to our naval friends and see they can possibly assist us. I do feel that speed is of the essence here. Bring them home as soon as possible. In the meantime, I think we can most usefully postpone our debriefing until everyone can attend the meeting in person." She wasn't happy, and that was clear. This mission had run right up to wire and success had been a close-run thing. Hetty did not like leaving things to chance. She stalked out of the room.

"Guess that wraps things up. I'm heading for home. Pulled an all-nighter and I need my bed." Eric logged out of his personal account and transferred control over to Nell. He felt bone weary, having been up for over twenty four hours and having given 100% concentration for over twenty three of those hours. Right now, his brain felt like was going to explode, so many thoughts were whirling around.

"No stamina," Nell chided, trying to hide her nervousness. This was the first time she had been left in sole control of Ops and it was more than a little bit daunting.

"Kensi and I are going out on a coffee run. Can we get you anything? Juice? A smoothie?"

Nell had told the whole team that she didn't consume anything that contained artificial stimulate or additives. Deeks wondered how long that would last. He was pretty sure Eric had taken a couple of uppers last night. They had all done the same, on occasion. It was just something that came with the territory: you had to be alert, and there were prescription meds that did the job. Eric was still buzzing and, if Deeks had him pegged right, once the analyst got home he would roll a joint to bring him back down enough to sleep. And Deeks was definitely sure that no joint had ever passed Nell's lips, nor was it likely to.

"No, I'm fine, "Nell replied in an absent tone of voice, as she checked all the relays were working . "But thank you." She returned her attention to the monitor and was lost once again in her work.

"Our little girl, riding her two-wheeler all by herself for the first time!" Eric joked.

Deeks took a good look at him: yup, just as he thought, Eric's pupils contracted to pinpricks. Guy was pretty high and feeling no pain. Which reminded him, he could do with taking his own medication. His chest was still giving a dull ache every time he made an unwary movement.

"Come on – I need coffee!" Kensi said. "And maybe a cinnamon roll." She tugged at his sleeve and started to drag him to the door. Eric was already out of there, in more than one meaning of the word.

"Should we go to separate coffee shops?" Deeks mused. "You know, just to make sure we're not breaching security. I wonder if Sam covered that in his helpful memo. The one that ran to ninety four pages. Single spaced. In a very small font."

"I don't care about Sam's memo! I don't care about anything but getting coffee into my system. I need caffeine!"

"That really doesn't help," Nell commented, but it was too late. Deeks and Kensi had gone and she was left alone. Again. Heaving a small sigh, Nell bent her head back down and started scanning the latest reports. And suddenly jerked upright as she read the most recent one.

Kensi had just taken the first sip of her triple shot, skinny grande latte and was savouring the taste when her cell buzzed insistently. The screen showed it was Hetty calling. She made a face and accepted the call.

"Miss Blye? Please return immediately. And bring Mr Deeks with you."

"Deeks? That was Hetty. Something's up. Coffee break's over." Kensi watched with concern as he popped a couple of pain pills and swigged them back with a large mouthful of coffee. "You okay?"

"I'm fine. Well, not exactly fine, but I will be. Don't worry."

_Don't worry? How like a man to say that! How does he think I'm not going to worry about him when he's hardly out of the hospital, when he nearly died in my arms? Who does he think he is, Superman?_

Deeks watched a range of emotions flit across her face and smiled. He was learning to read her like a book. "Come on, Wonder Woman. Duty calls." He had a feeling it was going to be another long day. "Once more unto the breach, dear Kensi."

Hetty was succinct and to the point. "We have received some disturbing news about Overlock. More specifically, concerning our ability to track the chemical signal. It appears this facility may have been compromised."

Crap. That was not what they needed to hear. "How many targets are currently being monitored?"

"NCIS currently have twenty seven active targets. I believe our friends in the CIA have at least twice that number under observation. Doubtless the Homeland Security and our other colleagues in intelligence have many more. There is reason to doubt that the tracking software is accurate."

That would account for their difficulty in tracking Abdul Habaza. Deeks had a sinking feeling of dread about this. He knew exactly what was coming next, and he didn't like it one little bit. And, which was even worse, he knew that Kensi was going to hate it.


	10. Chapter 10

Hetty sat behind her desk and regarded them gravely. She resented doing this, but she had no choice. "Overlock was developed by one of our foremost defence contractors, a company known as BB Technologies. Mr Deeks, I believe you are familiar with the company?"

"You know I am." Deeks leant back his own seat, crossed his arms and returned her gaze steadily

_If this is how you want to play things, Hetty, then so be it. But I'm not going to make it easy for you. You're trespassing onto private property._

She looked at her agent, and registered the stubborn set of his jaw. She could almost see the resentment seeping out of his pores.

_So that's how you want this conversation to go, is it Marty? Alright, I owe you that much. _

Clearing her throat, Hetty turned her attention to Kensi.

"BB Technologies is a wholly-owned subsidiary of Brandel Holdings, the parent group controlling the company assets. Bernard Brandel, the founder of Brandel Holdings, saw an opportunity back in the early nineties to move into IT speculation. It was at a time when the company was looking to diversify its asset holdings and as a result a decision was taken to move away from purely physical assets, such as property, into intellectual rights and new technologies. Since then, BB Technologies have become one of the US Government's preferred suppliers of remote defence system infrastructure, you are no doubt aware?"

Kensi nodded. You could hardly work in the security business and not be aware of BB Technologies. But even when she'd discovered that Marty's father was Gordon John Brandel, she'd never made the connection with BB Technologies, for the simple reason that the company strictly controlled the amount of information it released. She shot a sideways glance at her partner, who was listening with a carefully impassive look on his face.

Hetty continued. "Brandel Holdings is still a family owned and controlled company. As sole heir to one of the three original Brandel Brothers, our Mr Deeks is part-owner of the company, and the largest single shareholder. He is therefore in a position of some influence in the company. You do still maintain an active interest, don't you?"

"You know I do." Yes, he was quite certain Hetty knew everything about his involvement with the company, right down to what pictures sat on his desk and the colour of the toilet paper in the executive washrooms.

"Good. You're in your office two or three days a month and otherwise stay in touch with electronic updates?"

"Sounds about right. It can vary, depending what I'm involved in here. I don't take an active part in the day to day running of the company, but I do take my responsibilities seriously." He didn't dare look at Kensi. "And I'd like to make it clear that it does not interfere with my work here at NCIS."

_Oh my, I think I've ruffled his feathers. It's rather early in the game for Marty to be quite so defensive._

"Nobody has ever suggested such a possibility, Mr Deeks. What you do on your own free time is entirely your private business. However, I think your position in the company places us at a significant advantage in our investigation. How often does the board meet?"

By now, Deeks was fed up with playing the game according to Hetty's rules. "As you very well know, the board of Brandel Holdings meets on the second Wednesday of the month. Which just happens to be tomorrow. You except me to attend, don't you?"

_What was it the British called Hetty's technique again? Ah yes, a three-line whip. Well, I'm not about to be anyone's whipping boy. And if Hetty thought otherwise, she's was very sadly mistaken._

"I rather feel it will be necessary."

_Softly, softly, catchee monkey? Two can play at that game, Hetty._

"In that case, I'll attend. You're not exactly giving me a choice. But I've kept all this out of my working life up till now. I deliberately kept the two things separate. Brandel Holdings has nothing to do with who I am." Kensi was stirring in her seat beside him

_What the hell does she make of all this?_

"Mr Deeks, if it were at all possible, I would not involve you. But circumstances dictate that I must ask for your assistance. Will you help?"

_Oh, nice change of tactic, Hetty! Well played. You've got me backed into a corner._

"Of course I will." And then he feels a nudge and Kensi's squeezes his hand for just a fraction of a second. So that's alright. Maybe this isn't going to be quite so bad as he thought.

Hetty relaxed slightly, and placed the tips of her fingers together. "However, I rather think you will need some help on the technical side of things?"

"In terms of getting information out of Brandel's systems and into ours? You bet. We're not going to be able to download information and send it remotely, or hack into their systems. This is going to need someone inside the company, to access the data on-site. BB Technologies have some of the best security systems in the world, and that's without going into the data encryption side of things.2

"Thank you. You've confirmed my theory. It is nice to find we are on the same page after all. In that case, your role will be to assist getting our expert in place and to act as liaison. That should not compromise your position too much, should it?"

"I can live with that."

_I know when I'm beaten._

"But I don't know nearly enough about that kind of technology," Kensi protested. "I wouldn't know where to begin."

"Of course you don't," Hetty said, in her most comforting tone of voice. "Which is precisely why I have already taken the liberty of speaking to someone who does." She looked over the top of her glasses and studied her agents carefully, before raising her voice slightly.

"You may come in now, Miss Jones."


	11. Chapter 11

Kensi soared out of her seat. "You are joking, aren't you?"

"No, I am not. And please sit down at once. This is neither the time or the place for such a childish interruption." Hetty's displeasure was plain and Kensi subsided immediately.

"I'm sorry – but Nell will be at risk. She's an analyst, not an agent."

"I know that, Kensi." Nell spoke in a firm voice, although inwardly she was shaking. "Hetty explained everything very carefully before she asked me if I would be prepared to take on this assignment. Nobody is forcing me to do anything I don't want to do. And I'm fully aware of the risks."

Deeks reached out and took hold of her hand. "You won't be alone, Nell. I'll be there all the time. I'll make sure nothing happens to you."

"And Miss Blye will be close by at all times. She will be able to see everything that you see and hear everything that you hear. You will not be alone, Miss Jones."

"And I am the only person who could do this job. You don't know the first thing about computers, Kensi. You couldn't even reset your Frontierville account without my help, far less analyse high-volume traffic over a multiple user interface using quad-key encryption."

Kensi knew when she was beaten. Nell could have been speaking in Swahili for all the sense that last remark had made to her. The plan made sense, it made perfect sense. But that didn't mean she liked it one little bit. If there really was a leak within BB Technologies, then her partner was walking into danger, and she was not to be there to protect him. And Nell? Did she really know what she was letting herself in for? There were just too many risk factors in this operation.

The briefing proceeded without further interruption. Nell had managed to pull up photos of the BB Technology Board and Deeks gave them a run-down of the salient points.

"That's me. A photo from Harvard Law review, I think, judging by my hair. A look I regret now, although it seemed like a good idea at the time. Michael Martin Deeks and no coments about the name, please. One of those family quirks. Owner of the controlling share interest of 45% and board member. Moving swiftly on, that's David Bernard Brandel, otherwise Uncle Bernie. See what I mean about names? He's aged sixty-nine, chairman and owner of a 22% share. Very much the moving force behind the company and co-founder of Brandel Brothers back in the 1960s. His children: Emily, Allan and Lucas. They have pretty much pursued their own interests, although they do attend some board meetings. Moving swiftly on, we come to Stephen James Brandel, the remaining brother. Uncle Steve is sixty-six and pretty much takes a back seat. He's never married and has no children. He's got a 22% share too, and for some reason he got to use his first name. Never quite worked that one out."

Kensi was openly smiling as he related the facts, in his own inimitable style.

"And now for the non-family board members: Frank Manson, managing director, aged fifty-five and with a 5% shareholding. He's only been with us for five years, so he doesn't have family loyalty or long-term service. Prior history of working with defence contractors and suppliers, numerous contacts etcetera. Highly proficient and has increased profits. And finally, the remaining share holder and company secretary: Gina Donald. She's been with us since the early days, and is now aged somewhere in her late fifties. Acquired an 11% share-holding after restructuring in the 90s. A little token of our respect for all her loyalty during difficult times. I've known her all my life."

"Your money is on Manson then?"

"Definitely. I'm not sure if I trust him. He's my prime suspect at the moment I'm inclined to think that we might be looking at corporate espionage here. Unless I'm being naïve?"

Hetty shook her head. "I don't think so. I agree with your assessment. So we'll just have to start digging, won't we?"

And the game was afoot.

Nell had gone over every detail of her cover, with Kensi patiently coaching her in basic security protocols. Knowing the procedures in the Ops Centre was one thing, actually running an operation was completely different. Kensi was impressed with Nell: she was really putting herself out there. But she couldn't help wishing Callen and Sam were here, rather than being still in transit, stuck in Belgium due to a fog bank that had closed down all the civilian airports in Western Europe. She just hoped they took the opportunity to stock up on Belgian chocolate, but somehow, she doubted they would think of such a thing.

"You got everything clear? Anything you want me to go over again? Anything at all, you just have to ask."

"Were you scared – before your first undercover assignment?" Nell kept her head down, refusing to look at Kensi.

"I'm scared now," Kensi admitted. "I'm scared every single time."

But this time was different. Her partner was going in by himself, with no immediate backup and with the additional handicap of Nell to look after. And she was going to have sit and watch as it all went down. This time, she was terrified.


	12. Chapter 12

Nell had gone over every detail of her cover, with Kensi patiently coaching her in basic security protocols. Knowing the procedures in the Ops Centre was one thing, actually running an operation was completely different. Kensi was impressed with Nell: she was really putting herself out there. But she couldn't help wishing Callen and Sam were here, rather than being still in transit, stuck in Belgium due to a fog bank that had closed down all the civilian airports in Western Europe. She just hoped they took the opportunity to stock up on Belgian chocolate, but somehow, she doubted they would think of such a thing.

"You got everything clear? Anything you want me to go over again? Anything at all, you just have to ask."

"Were you scared – before your first undercover assignment?" Nell kept her head down, refusing to look at Kensi.

"I'm scared now," Kensi admitted. "I'm scared every single time."

But this time was different. Her partner was going in by himself, with no immediate backup and with the additional handicap of Nell to look after. And she was going to have sit and watch as it all went down. This time, she was terrified.

Deeks came in, looking shattered. "Any chance of a ride home?"

"Sure. You okay, with that Nell? I can stay if you want me to – Deeks can get a ride with some one else."

Nell swallowed. "No, I'm fine. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Come over to my place and we'll ride in together?" Deeks suggested. It was clear Nell needed some moral support.

Kensi gathered her things together and tried not to think about what might happen when they got out to Malibu. There would be a time for that – a hopefully that time was fast approaching. But right now, she had something else on her mind: Nell.

"Remember - you've got my cell number. So use it. I really mean that Nell. You want to talk to me about anything, just call. I'll come right over."

And once again, Nell was left by herself. Eric was due back on duty any time now and it would be a relief to have someone to talk to, someone who would be able to relate not only to the technical aspects of the job she was being asked to perform, but someone who would be able to understand exactly how she felt.

The road out to Malibu was becoming very familiar to Kensi now. She could relax and enjoying the drive, without having to second guess the lane switches. Only she wasn't relaxed: she was as nervous as a schoolgirl on her first date. Just sitting here in the car, with Deeks right beside her, his thigh just inches away from her hand, was incredibly distracting.

_Concentrate, Kensi! Don't go off into one of your fantasies now or you'll get both you and Deeks killed in a head-on collision._

"You want to keep that shirt?" the object of her musings asked. "It looks kind of cute on you."

"Won't you miss it?"

_I'll wear it in bed at night. The next best thing to having you beside me._

"I'll manage. I've got more important things to think about."

She wasn't quite sure how to take that statement until she looked across and saw the way he was looking at her. And suddenly everything was alright. She put her foot down and the engine responded.

"Coming in?" Deeks asked as the wheel crunched to a halt on the gravel driveway. He did a quick check – the lights were on in the guest cottage where Caroline and Joe lived, so they had the house to themselves.

Kensi took hold of his hand and started walking up the steps. "Just try and stop me!"

Hand in hand they raced up the staircase, past the portrait of Maryanne Brandel, smiling and wearing a diamond necklace and looking remarkably like her younger son. The bedroom door lay open, inviting them in. It was an invitation that was simply too good to refuse.

He pulled her into his arms and stood perfectly still, marvelling at how well their bodies fitted together, astounded at how right this felt. Letting his arms slowly move down her back to caress the curve of her buttocks, pulling her closer into him, kissing her as if this was the first, last and only time. A low moan escaped Kensi's lips and she raised her hands to finally let them entwine through his hair, as she'd so often dreamt of doing. Bending his head, Marty found that spot under her left ear, the one that always turned her legs to jelly and made her feel so incredibly randy it wasn't true and she felt as if this was the moment she had been travelling towards her whole life.

Suddenly urgent, unable to wait any longer, her hands moved down to his waist and started fumbling at the belt. At the same time, his hands were tugging the shirt free from her trousers, so that they could caress her bare skin.


	13. Chapter 13

"Damn" Kensi exploded. "Damn, damn, DAMN!"

"Did I do something wrong?"

_Oh God, what did I do wrong?_

"No, it's nothing you did. Everything you did was perfect. It's my cell – it's on vibrate." She pulled it out of her pocket and looked at the screen. "Nell's calling. I'd better answer it."

"Of course you should."

"Hi, Nell! Anything up?" Kensi said brightly.

"Did I catch you at a bad time, Kensi? You sound kind of breathless. You're not at the gym, are you?"

"No, it's fine. I'm not at the gym."

"Oh good. I don't want to put you out, but I was just wondering… I mean, you said I could call. It's just…"

_I feel so stupid. I bet she was doing something really important._

"It's no problem, Nell. I'm really glad you called. Do you want me to come over?"

_She sounds terrified, poor kid. And what's a little white lie between friends? Or even lovers… or almost-lovers._

"Would you?"

"Of course. I'll be right over. Want me to pick up some Chinese and a movie on the way over? How about we have a girls night in, just you and me – and some hot guy on TV!"

"That would be great. I'll see you soon. And Kensi? Thank you."

"No problem .I'll see you soon." Kensi ended the call and looked ruefully at Deeks. "Seems like tonight just wasn't meant to be."

_Just like last night._

"There'll be other nights," he soothed her. "Or how about I come over and join the pyjama party? You could wear that shirt and not a whole lot else and I could be the hot guy panting in the corner?"

"Not a chance. I want you all to myself, Marty Deeks. I've got plans for you, me and that incredibly huge bed and maybe even that shower…"

He pulled her close, wrapping both arms around her waist, holding her so tightly she could hardly breathe. "How about the Jacuzzi? I only got it put in a few months ago and it hasn't been properly christened yet." She could feel the urgency in his body, hear the tone in his voice and wanted nothing more than to stay right here, to tear all the clothes off his body and…

"Gotta go. Sorry – I want to stay but…"

"Duty calls? I understand, Kensi. I don't like it, but I do understand."

Cursing under her breath, Kensi drove back into LA, while Deeks went sadly into the bathroom and had a long shower. With the water temperature turned way down. The bed felt too big that evening.

Blue suit, black suit, grey suit? Or maybe blazer and chinos? Or could he freak Uncle Steve out and just turn up in jeans and a t-shirt? It was tempting and maybe, if things had been different, he would have done just that. But not today, today was all about business. Sighing, Deeks pulled out a crisp white shirt, selected a suitably drab tie and shrugged his way into a dark blue suit. He'd even shaved and brushed his back off his face. The image that greeted him in the mirror looked like a stranger.

"Corporate drone!" Deeks said mockingly and ran his hands through his hair and then gave his head a shake for good measure. That was better. He grinned at his reflection and went off in search of coffee.

"Your friend Nell called," Caroline said. "So I invited here over for breakfast." She looked him up and down. "You need to put a belt on those pants, Marty – you've got so skinny they look like they're going to fall down off your sorry little butt."

"In a minute," he placated her, grabbing a cup and helping himself to coffee. "I'm barely conscious yet."

The cup was taken out of his hands and placed on the counter. "Now, Marty. I know you – you'll find some excuse or other and then spend the rest of the day holding on to your pants to stop them falling down around your ankles. What kind of an example is that to set young Nell?"

Deeks knew when he was beaten. What was it with all these strong women in his life: Hetty, Caroline and now Kensi? He didn't stand a chance against that gang of three, he was putty in their hands, no matter how much he protested. And it felt good.

By the time he got back downstairs, Nell had arrived and Caroline was showing into the breakfast room. Deeks couldn't remember the last time he'd actually eaten breakfast in there – although it was probably before he left for college, because he'd started to eat in the kitchen right after his mother died. It was a shame the room had been unused for so long, because it was really pretty nice, situated so the early morning sun came in through the windows, with light coloured furniture. Nell was standing admiring the watercolours on that hung all around the walls.

"My mother painted those," he remarked and Nell spun around to face him.

"Really? They're beautiful." Nell was incredibly pale and Marty's heart went out to her.

"Sadly, I didn't inherit any of her talent. It takes me all my time to draw stick men. Even doodles are hard work for me. I guess I'm artistically challenged."

Nell was starting to relax a little, enough so that she was able to laugh at his corny jokes and allow herself to be seated at the table.

"I have to warn you about Caroline," Deeks said in a conspiratorial tone. "She is a complete gorgon and won't let you out of here until you have eaten more food than you ever thought possible. She has this absurd thing about fattening people up."

"I heard that, Marty Deeks! Don't you listen to a word he says, Nell. He's just mad because I told him he was too skinny." She placed a large fruit salad, topped with Greek yoghurt and honey in front of Nell.

"You have lost weight," Nell said, beginning to feel at home. Deeks just groaned and buried his head in his hands. When he looked up, there was a large stack of pancakes, bacon and maple syrup in front of him and his face broke into a broad smile.

"Just this once, mind," Caroline warned. "Because you've not been well and you need building up. Don't you think you're going to get this sort of breakfast every day."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he assured her.

Nell started to relax. This was just like being back at home. Except that her parents' whole house was about half the size of Marty's guest cottage.

"You look very nice."

Caroline snorted. "He's made an effort for once, Nell. Most days he's too lazy to bother."

"Most days I try to get a swim in the ocean and maybe catch a few waves before work," Deeks objected. "I don't have time for all this fancy stuff.."

"A simple matter of priorities. You were always reluctant to get out of your bed, even as a little boy." She bent over conspiratorially. "Do you know, Nell – he was the only baby I've ever met who had to be woken up when it was time to be fed? Left alone and he'd sleep his life away."

"You're ruining my image here, Caroline."

The easy banter continued and the next time Nell looked down, the bowl was empty. She was sure she wouldn't have been able to eat a single morsel, and yet the evidence was right in front of her. Or rather, it wasn't. Maybe today wasn't going to be as bad as she had thought. And, after all, she was going to get to spend it with Deeks. Who looked so amazing in that suit. Things could be worse.


	14. Chapter 14

"Our boy scrubs up nicely," Callen observed, watching Deeks help Nell out of the Lincoln Town Car parked outside the Brandel Building on the view screen in Ops an hour later. He and Sam had finally got home to LA just before midnight and had managed to snatch a few hours sleep before coming in to find the latest operation already in progress and unfolding before their eyes.

Hetty moved in for a closer look. "A Brioni custom-made suit. Very nice indeed. Our Mr Deeks is dressed for business."

"Brioni?" Sam snorted. "Deeks has got this whole James Bond vibe going on, what with having to have his Beretta and now the fancy Italian suits. Pity he couldn't find a few moments to get a hair-cut."

Eric flashed him a smile, "You gotta admit, Sam – Deeks has got a heck of a good head of hair." He looked pointedly as Sam's shaven head. Recently, there had been a whole lot of speculation going on in OSP as to whether Sam was going bald or not. The smart money was on never broaching the question with the man directly, not if one wished to stay alive and in one piece.

"Pity he never seems to brush it. Looks like it does its own damn thing, like some sort of animal you find in the woods," Sam said dryly. He turned his attention back to the screen and tried to concentrate. It had been late last night when he finally got back home and of course Crosby had been in bed for hours. Sam had stood in the doorway just watching the child sleep before a wave of exhaustion hit him. It was too much effort to go through to the couch, so he'd simply lain and slept beside his son. The only problem was that Crosby still had a small child's bed and this morning Sam's back felt like hell. That, plus the jet lag and the simmering unease he felt about the Yemen mission all contributed to his current black mood.

Kensi said nothing, she just sat there and thought how good Deeks looked, hair gleaming in the early morning sun, the perfectly cut dark suit emphasising his physique. And she wished, more than anything else, that she was at his side instead of Nell.

Deeks opened the car door and reached inside to take a gentle hold of Nell's arm as she exited the Town Car as graciously as possible. "Don't worry, everything is going to be fine. You're going to brilliant."

Grasping her briefcase firmly in one hand, Nell pulled down her skirt with the other and then walked beside Deeks as they crossed the plaza in front of the Brandel Building. At the front entrance, once again he opened the door for her, standing politely aside so that she could enter first.

_A girl could get used to this sort of life,_ Nell thought_: being served breakfast in a Malibu mansion, a chauffeured ride to work and being treated like a lady by the best looking guy in LA. Pity he's only got eyes for Kensi._

"Good morning, Mr Deeks!" A receptionist, who looked uncannily like a model on a magazine cover greeted them as they made their way across what seemed like acres of polished marble flooring.

"Window dressing," Deeks said in a whisper. "Meet and greet: keep them sweet." He flashed a grin at the woman as they walked towards the security gate.

"Very nice. You've got good taste, Deeks," Callen's voice said in his ear. "You recruit her personally? Nell, go and look over in her direction again, will you? I could do with a good, long look to brighten up my day."

Nell obediently swivelled her head so that the camera built into her glasses would pick up the receptionist as Deeks responded in an undertone. "You want I should get you her number, G? You never know - maybe if she's got a thing for older guys, it could be your lucky day?"

By now they were at the security desk, where Deeks signed her in. "You'll get your ID pass upstairs and we'll program it so you have all-area access.". And then they were at the executive elevator. Nell stepped in with a confidence she did not feel. She had made it so far – but this was just the beginning.

"So this is the other side of Deeks' life, is it?" Callen was fascinated as he watched the guy interact with various board members and staff of Brandel Holding, Nell sticking pretty close to his side, clutching her laptop bag so tightly her knuckles showed white even on camera. "Exactly how much do his family know about his real employment?"

"About OSP and NCIS – why, nothing at all, Mr Callen. They do know, of course, that he is an LAPD detective, and seem to regard this positively, in the main. I believe that his uncles regard Mr Deeks' career choice in law enforcement as resulting from that unfortunate incident in his childhood."

_Wow! Hetty, you've always been a master of understatement but this is the best yet. An eleven year old shoots his father in self-defence and you describe that as an unfortunate incident?_

Hetty continued. "It would appear that they do not object to Mr Deeks taking rather a back-seat in the company, despite his majority shareholding. I rather suspect Bernard Brandel has ambitions for at least one of his children to take over the reins at some time in the future, so he may encourage Mr Deeks to maintain his low level involvement in the day to day activities of the company."

In any company, large or small, there was going to be the inevitable jockeying for position among executives. Until proven otherwise everyone on the board of Brandel Holdings was a potential suspect. Hetty was still not ruling out the theory of corporate espionage. If there did prove to be a fault in the Overlock tracking system, whether created by sabotage or not, word would soon get around. Stock prices would go down and the company could be ripe for a hostile takeover. That was the last thing any one of the security agencies wanted. Procurement contracts for such sensitive equipment involved months of vetting. It was not just as simple as letting the new owner of the company take over the existing contracts. And that was the best-case scenario. The worst case was that Overlock had been compromised deliberately and that hostile sources were now controlling the system. That was the stuff nightmares were made of.

"They're on the move," Eric commented and switched views so that they got direct feed from Nell's viewpoint.

"My office." Deeks opened the door at the end of the corridor, ushering Nell into a large corner office with incredible views from the floor to ceiling windows that lined two sides of the room. "We've got about thirty minutes before the board meeting." He didn't need to say anymore. Nell booted up the desktop PC and accessed the administrator permissions. The first step was to override the security protocols and disable the download blocker. Simultaneously, Deeks booted up the NCIS laptop and connected it to the desktop hard drive. They worked together in a well-rehearsed routine, aware that every second counted.

"You reading us, Eric?" Deeks asked as Nell worked frantically beside him.

"Coming online as we speak… Yes. We have remote contact. Nell – you've got to download the program stored on your laptop and…"

"I know all that! Just give me a minute." Her fingers flew over the keys. "Okay. Download complete. Transfer complete and starting synch now."

They could see the progress bar gradually move across the screen. "Synch complete. Confirm mirror established, Eric?"

"Confirmed. Mirror established. Ladies and gentlemen, we have access. We're in business."

"We only have that access for as long as Nell is in the building **and** her laptop has a signal," Hetty reminded him. "It's time to get to work. Mr Beale - start pulling that information over to our systems. Miss Blye: I think it might be expedient for you to move to the vicinity of the Brandel Building."

Eric activated the comm link. "Deeks – get us as much time as you can. We've got a lot of data to grab and it's going to take time. And make sure that laptop is up and running at all times."

"Understood. It's going to cost you though. Have you any idea how boring these board meetings can be?"

Satisfied that she could focus on the other pressing matter, Hetty stood up. "Mr Callen and Mr Hannah: I would appreciate your attendance at a debriefing meeting. You may be interested to know that Director Vance will also be attending, at his personal request. Five minutes, gentlemen, if you please."

"Hetty's not pleased," Callen noted. "Looks like Vance is out for blood. You want to get our stories straight?"

"Leave this to me," Sam said. "No arguments. I messed up and I'll go down on record saying so. This is my call, Callen. What's the worst he can do?"

Callen just shrugged.

_You really don't want to know Sam, believe me._


	15. Chapter 15

"Move, damn you!"

Midday traffic in LA was never fun and Kensi was caught in the middle of a particularly bad snarl up. Boxed in on all sides, the traffic had ground to a standstill and she was going precisely nowhere.

"Eric? You reading me?"

"You're coming in loud and clear, Kensi."

"How's the download going?"

"We're getting there. You stuck in traffic or something? Your signal hasn't moved for about 5 minutes." He moved between systems without pausing: Nell was still focused on Deeks, sitting at the head of a long table. "You having fun there, Nell? Any chance we could see some of the other players - maybe get their reactions? I know Deeks is pretty, but try to keep your mind on the job, there's a good girl."

"Yeah, I'm stuck, Eric. Any chance you can do some magic with the traffic signals? Otherwise it looks like I'll be here till midnight."

He accessed an aerial view. "No go, Kensi, that's not going to help you. We've got a semi-container jack-knifed across eastbound and a pile up going westbound. CHiPs are trying to clear enough space for an emergency helicopter to land. You're just going to have to sit tight."

"Oh come on! I can't believe this is happening. Not now…"

"Sit tight, Kensi. We're monitoring the action at the board meeting and everything is going to plan. No – hold that thought. Deeks is signalling. Patching audio through to you."

"… discussions at a later date. We all agreed?" Kensi didn't recognise the voice.

"Agreed, Uncle Bernie. How about a ten minute recess everyone?" It was Deeks, sounding completely normal, almost relaxed. Covered by the general sounds of agreement in the background, he asked "How are we doing?"

"Ten minutes, guys" Eric confirmed.

"Can I see back in my office, Miss Jones?" Deeks lowered his voice. "Alright, we're going to start getting out of here. Ten minute departure time and awaiting your confirmation."

"Next contact will be green light," Eric responded.

Kensi realised she'd been holding her breath and suddenly exhaled. Her head started to clear a little. They were nearly there.

"Hey!" It was Deeks and he sounded angry. "What the hell?" The next sounds were muffled, but Kensi had listened to far too many audio broadcasts not to know what they were.

"Eric? Get on CHiPs stat. I need a ride out of here now. Priority One."

"Copy that, Kensi."

"Nell! Get out of here now. Run!" The next second, Deeks was swearing and she could hear the pain and urgency in his voice. This sounded really bad and he wasn't in any sort of shape to cope with a working over.

Jumping out of the car, Kensi scanned the scene urgently. No sign of a motorcycle yet. She wanted to run, but there was nowhere to run to. All she could do was stand here, waiting and listening to Deeks get worked over.

"Eric? Fill me in? I need to know what's going on."

His voice was bleak. "Deeks was jumped by three goons. Nell took off, but we've lost contact with her. Must have dropped her glasses."

In the distance she could hear a police siren and Kensi started to run towards the sound. "My transport's here. Estimate ETA?"

Eric checked the screen. "Five minutes. Three with blues and twos. I've already dispatched Sam and Callen. It sounds bad, Kensi."

She knew. She could hear the horrific sounds of fists smashing into bone and flesh. The best she could hope for was that Deeks managed to get in a few good punches of his own.

"Report, Mr Beale? I'm sure Director Vance will appreciate knowing exactly why I had to terminate our discussion against his express orders."

_Hey, you pissed off Hetty, Vance. Nice going. You might be Director, but surely even you know not to mess with Hetty? Bad move, Leon. Way bad move. You mess with Hetty and you mess with all of us._

"They've been made. We've lost contact with Nell, but her laptop is still on and sending. We've got audio on Deeks and he sounds bad shape. Far as I can tell, he's being worked over pretty comprehensively. Two minutes left for download completion and counting." Eric looked up at Vance and nodded curtly. "Nice to have you with us, Director."

_Has anyone ever told him how stupid he looks with that damn toothpick sticking out of his mouth? Looks like he's just been snacking on a porcupine or something._

Vance returned the gesture and then went over to the screen, moving . "Looks like your troops are arriving just in time, Hetty." His face was impassive, except for the regular, almost ritual biting down on the toothpick.

The tracking showed Kensi, Sam and Callen converging on the plaza.

"Download complete," Eric stated. "Green light. Get them out of there guys."

"Nick of time, Hetty. Impeccable timing."

"It's not over yet, Leon."

_And don't patronise me. You may be Director of NCIS but this is my operation, my unit and my agents. And don't you forget that._


	16. Chapter 16

Under any other circumstances, Kensi would have enjoyed riding pillion on a motorbike travelling in excess of 100 miles an hour, with her hair blowing in the wind. This was exhilarating; no doubt about it, better than any roller-coaster Magic Mountain had yet produced, but was only a means to an end. Her mind was on Deeks and what he was going through. The audio-trace had gone, presumably whoever had him had discovered it and disposed of it.

_Hang on in there, Marty. We're coming. We're all coming._

No sooner had the thought popped into her head than she felt guilty.

_Nell must be scared out of her wits. Please make her be okay. Please make both of them be okay._

"We're here, ma'am" the officer said, giving her a long, appraising look, clearly liking what he saw. He was just about to ask if he could have her number when a young woman came running towards them, clutching a laptop to her chest.

"Kensi! I've never been so glad to see anyone in my life!" Nell flung herself into the agent's arms, trying to recover her breath. "They've got Marty."

"I know. Are you alright?"

"Me? I'm fine. This one guy tried to grab me, but I whacked him over the head and then kicked him where it hurts. And then I ran. I used to be on the track team at school, you see." She looked proud of herself, for a second and then reality hit hard. "You've got to get to Marty."

Kensi agreed. She thrust Nell towards the CHiPs officer. "He'll take you back to the Mission. You've done brilliantly." She started running towards the entrance.

"Eric? I need location now." It was hard to keep the panic out of her voice and she wasn't entirely successful.

"Top floor. Callen and Sam are already on their way up. Take the last elevator car on the left. I'm accessing the controls now."

"Veto that." Callen's voice suddenly came on-line. "We're coming down. Are the paramedics here yet? Cos I think we're going to need a helicopter evac."

"Scrambling now." It was good when you had something urgent to do in a situation like this: it meant you didn't have time to think about what was actually going on. Eric went into auto-pilot, contacting the authorities, using the code words that guaranteed a priority response and then arranging for clearance on the ground.

"Report please, Mr Callen? Are you alright?"

"Sam and I are fine, but Deeks looks pretty bad."

Callen ended the conversation abruptly. He'd used every short-cut he knew of, driving along side-streets, turning down alley-ways and getting every last ounce of power out of the car and it still wasn't enough. He and Sam had just about broken Olympic records running from the car, through the lobby and into the express elevator and they were still too late. Ten minutes. Six hundred seconds. Not much time really. But an eternity if you were being physically restrained while two goons pummelled the hell out your body that was still recovering from two bullet wounds and two rounds of major surgery.

"Stay with me, man," Sam commanded, cradling Deeks in his arms, walking towards the elevator as fast as he dared. "Any update on those paramedics?"

The elevator was waiting for them, doors open.

Callen shook his head and stepped closer, placing his index and middle fingers on Deeks' neck. "Still got a pulse. Weak, thread, but still there. Take us down, fast as you can, Eric" He leaned back against the mirrored wall, trying not to look at the bloodstained body Sam was cradling to his chest. "They did one hell of a job on him."

"Knew exactly where to hurt him." He gently disentangled one arm, careful to make sure he was still supporting the injured man, and brushed Deeks hair back out of his face with a remarkably tender gesture that nearly did for Callen. "The rest was just hurting for the sake of it."

The comms channel was buzzing with conversations coming in from all over.

"The medics should be here by now, Callen. What the hell are those guys doing?"

"Eric? Any update yet on the evac? We need help here."

"Leon: listen to me and listen carefully. If Marty Deeks dies because you insisted on detaining Callen and Sam here, I will make your life a living purgatory. And that is a promise. Now get the hell out of my command room."

"Deeks: listen to me. You've got to hang in there, buddy. Deeks? **DEEKS!**"

Standing outside, listening to all their words, Kensi could bear it no longer and started to run towards the building.


	17. Chapter 17

She had only managed a dozen paces before being caught around the waist by a uniformed LAPD Officer.

"This is a restricted area, ma'am."

She struggled fruitlessly. "Let go of me. I'm a Federal Officer."

"I don't care if you're the Queen of England: there's an emergency flight helicopter about to land and I'm under orders to keep the area clear."

Across the plaza Kensi could see Sam and Callen come out of the Brandel Building, Sam with Deeks in his arms. "Marty!" She was practically screaming, but the noise of the approaching helicopter drowned out her cries. Straining, she could see Deeks was unconscious, his head was lolling back and the sinews in his neck were stretched taut.

"Please." She wriggled around just enough so she could look the cop holding her directly in the face. "That's my partner who's wounded over there. I need to see him. I really need to see him."

"I wish it was possible. But you'll just get yourself killed."

The downdraft from the helicopter was whipping the air around her, pulling at her clothing, whipping her hair into mad array. It was over in just under two minutes: scoop and run, they called it. When the aircraft had taken off again, she could see Sam and Callen had been left behind. Sam's shirt was stained with blood and he was standing perfectly still, looking at the ground and shaking his head as if in disbelief. The pressure on her waist suddenly slackened and she was released.

"Sorry about that, ma'am. Hope your partner makes it." He sounded genuinely concerned and, after all, he'd only been doing his job. Just like Deeks had been.

"Kensi?" Callen was right beside her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

"It's bad, isn't it?" She leaned into him.

No sense in lying. "It's bad. The car's over here. Hospital's only ten minutes away. You copy that, Eric?"

"Loud and clear. Update us when you can." No sense in telling them he'd tapped into the helicopter crew system and could hear everything that was being said. They were worried enough without having to know that Deeks had started choking on his own blood and had been ventilated. Why add to the strain of their journey? Sometimes this job meant that he heard too much, knew too much and yet just had to sit here, powerless. Sometimes Eric really hated his job.

"Hetty?" Sam's voice sounded as if he had been gargling with gravel. "Deeks was still conscious when we arrived. Just barely, but he managed to tell us a name. He nailed it for us. We're looking for Gina Donald."

"Message received and understood. Let me know when you hear any news, please."

Gina Donald: the woman who had known Marty Deeks all his life. The loyal, devoted company secretary who had resented the appointment of a new director from outwith the ranks and had suddenly decided to throw away thirty five years of dedicated service. The perfect employee, who had plotted to ruin the company and betray not only the Brandels and all associated with them, but to put the lives of hundreds, possibly thousands of security personnel at risk. Gina Donald: the middle-aged woman whom nobody had ever suspected would now be apprehended on charges of treason.

"That will help you to narrow down your search of those records, Mr Beale. I'll make sure you have ample assistance. Find me the information to tie that woman to the Overlock infiltration. We need a watertight case to hold up in a court of law. And contact all the relevant authorities and put out an all-points BOLO. I want that woman detained as soon as possible."

Hetty knew Eric would work all night if he had to. No doubt Miss Jones would join him. She had forged a fine team: they worked well together, they had developed real bonds that only made them more efficient. And Leon Vance had thrown away all that hard work. He had wilfully detained Callen and Sam here at the Mission, so that they were not in place when Marty needed them. And for what? A debriefing that could have been done much later? A debriefing that he had no real need to attend, other than to try to make an experienced agent feel like a failure, even though the Yemen operation had ultimately been a success? Had Leon forgotten what it was like to put his own life on the line each and every single day? Was he so out of touch that she needed to drag him over to the hospital and make him sit beside Marty's bedside and see what damage he'd caused?

All of a sudden, Hetty felt very old. For the first time in her life, she was weary of playing games. There was none of the relief one usually felt at the successful completion of a mission, nor was there even a feeling of relief. But then, this wasn't over. This was just beginning. And there was just one more thing she had to do before leaving for the hospital. Leon Vance might have friends in high places, but so did she. It only took three telephone calls before she was finally free to drive over to the hospital and sit in another waiting room, trying to stay calm.

"He did what?" Kensi couldn't believe her ears.

"Placed me on suspension. Effective immediately. Said my hesitation made me a risk and I had to undergo a full psych evaluation." Sam was still seething at Vance. The guy already had a reputation for being out of touch with his agents and today had proved it was well-deserved. "Wouldn't listen to anything G or Hetty said. It was like he'd made his mind up already. Once the shrink's cleared me as fit, then and only then would he consider if I could be reinstated or if I should be reassigned. And those were his exact words. So I quit. I can't work for a guy like that."

"You can't work knowing you have no support," Callen clarified. "The buck should stop with Vance, but he kicks it right back at you."

_I never did trust the guy._

Kensi couldn't quite process what was being said. This whole thing was unreal, not least because once again she was sitting waiting to hear how Deeks was. "You resigned?" She looked across at Hetty. "What did you say to that?"

"Before or after we got the message about Deeks being in trouble?" Sam asked dryly. "You really don't want to know what Hetty said when Vance tried to stop us going to him. Which was when I threw that punch."

"You punched the Director?" Kensi was beginning to wonder if she was having some sort of vivid nightmare. This couldn't be happening, could it?

_Why haven't we heard anything about Marty? We should have heard something by now._

"Knocked him out cold." Despite himself, Sam grinned. "Knocked that stupid little toothpick out of his mouth too. Felt damn fine."

_Next time I see Vance, I'm going to rip his head right off his shoulders for what he allowed to happen to Deeks._

Callen agreed. "Vance has lost touch with what we do on a day-to-day basis. He spends too much time schmoozing his contacts and forgets what we're actually out there doing. I heard from Di Nozzo that Vance has this idea agents should be "more IT smart and less street smart", like he thinks this is just some sort of virtual reality game. Sam just brought him back down to earth."

_Pity it's not Vance in that emergency room instead of Deeks._

"We could have been there, only he stopped us. Vance deliberately left one of his own out there alone."

_Better watch you back, Vance. You've made a lot of enemies today._

"Which is precisely why I have reported his actions to SecNav," Hetty said. "And the Secretary of State for Defence. Plus the Head of Homeland Security. Which may mean that I will join you in tendering my resignation, Mr Hannah, should they disagree with my assessment. Sadly, I believe that Director Vance has become a distinct liability. And I am not prepared to stand by and watch as he deliberately puts the lives of my agents at risk."

_Is this how it all ends? For me and for Marty?_

Kensi looked at her watch. "Why haven't we heard anything yet? It's been too long."

The door to the waiting room opened. "Which one of you is Detective Deeks next of kin?"

_Is this how it ends? Before we've even begun?_

To be continued…


	18. Chapter 18

"I am. My name is Henrietta Lang." She cocked her head slightly and looked expectantly at the darkly handsome man in scrubs.

"Benedict Watson: chief of neurosurgery. I have to tell you that Detective Deeks is in a critical condition."

"Marty. His name's Marty," Kensi said. "He's my partner."

What she wanted to say was "and I love him", but this was all getting a bit too much like an episode of _Grey's Anatomy_ for comfort as it as. So Kensi sat and listened, once again, as yet another doctor told her about Marty's injuries. Yet again, they were bad. A traumatic, closed-head injury that had made his brain swell. A possible ruptured spleen. Several broken ribs. Marty was being taken for emergency surgery. Again.

"I am going to kill Vance!" Sam swore. Revenge for Mo was suddenly far from his mind.

"Stand in line, Sam. The queue starts behind me." Callen gave Hetty a searching look. "You alright?"

She considered this carefully for several moments. "No, I don't think I am. But thank you for asking all the same."

None of them were ever going to be the same again after this. The ensuing silence draped itself around them like a shroud.

The comms channels were going ballistic. Messages were coming in from around the country and beyond as news spread. The intelligence community was a very small one when it came to their own. Leon Vance got a call to his cell within an hour, recalling him to Washington immediately. He left LA in such a hurry that he left his toothpicks behind. Eric took a singular joy in snapping each and every one, piece by piece, revelling in the puny sound. Then he gathered the pieces together into a neat pyre and ceremoniously immolated them. It didn't change anything, but it did relieve a tiny bit of the tension.

"What's going to happen?" Nell asked, sipping her latte and trying not to pull a face. She'd finally succumbed to caffeine in an effort to stay up to speed, but it wasn't a pleasant experience. It did seem to work though.

"To us or to Vance?"

"Vance. How could he do that?" She thought for a moment. "You think something's going to happen to us too?"

"Could be. Might close the OSP down altogether, what with this fiasco and Sam resigning. We've pissed off a lot of people and this could be the final straw. Then again, there's a huge groundswell of support gathering pace out there. You've seen the traffic over the internet, on cells, even on twitter. Thre's a whole lot of pissed-off people out there. Something like this happens to an agent on his own home-turf and you've got a lot of people asking a lot of very awkward questions. It's like this huge vote of no-confidence. Sooner or later, it's going to get leaked to the media unless someone puts a lid on the whole thing. Best-case scenario? Vance is cast to the wolves and we continue as normal. Worst case: I'm not even going to go there. Seriously."

_Does it matter anyway? If Deeks dies, does any of this really matter?_

"I hope they tear him apart!" Nell said.

_Please be alright, Marty, please._

The neurosurgeon didn't have to say a word. Kensi knew the moment she saw the look on his face, the concern in his hazel eyes. She knew before he opened his mouth and said a single word.

"Marty came through the operation with flying colours. He's going to be fine."

She spent the rest of the night sitting beside his bed, watching his pale face, his head looking so different swathed in bandages, unconscious but alive.

"I've never known anyone who could look so completely and utterly gorgeous, even if you are unconscious. You'd better wake up soon so I can tell you that in person."

Kensi ran her fingers gently down his arm, looking at all the little golden hairs and smiling at the way his eyebrows were a couple of shades lighter than his hair. She treasured each and every single detail about the man.

"You just sleep now, Marty. I'll be right here when you wake up. I'm not going to leave you again."

The official memorandum was issued to all staff at 7am the next morning. It was short and succinct.

"_NCIS Director Leon Vance has demitted responsibility and is taking an indefinite leave of absence, effective immediately. Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs is assuming interim directorial responsibilities, effective immediately. Responsibility for the Office of Special Projects is hereby delegated to Henrietta Lang, effective immediately."_

"Rumour is Homeland Security rated the possible backlash against Vance as a serious threat to national security – any truth in that, Eric?"

"Couldn't possibly comment, Sam. You might think so, but I couldn't possibly comment." In his spare time Eric was an avid watcher of Masterpiece Theatre.

Callen poured himself another cup of coffee. Lack of sleep and jetlag were beginning to catch up with him. "I would say the smart money's on an "official" diagnosis of PTSD, following that ambush Vance got caught up in with Eli David a few months back."

"Sounds about right to me. David gives me the creeps. I'm sure I'd have PTSD if I had to spend much time with him."

"You reckon all that manic chomping on those damn toothpicks was a sign?"

"Some people might say it was an oral fixation. Freudians might even postulate our Leon was never breast-fed, suffered premature separation anxieties ever since and developed a displacement activity to compensate for his deep-rooted insecurities and perceived inadequacies." It was clear that Nate Getz had little time for the erstwhile Director. "I'm not giving a definitive diagnosis, you understand. I'm just saying what some people might think."

Nell ran across the room "Nate! I didn't expect you back until next week."

Callen and Sam exchanged puzzled glances. "Good to have you back, Doc – but last time we met, you said you were staying out in the Middle East. What happened?"

"Change of plan. Hetty called – you know how it is."

"You're still scared of her?"

"Who can say no to Hetty? And moving swiftly on from my own very healthy fear of the lady, is there any news of Deeks this morning?" Still feeling the effects of the long flight home, Nate poured himself a large cup of coffee and added two sugars.

"Last we heard was he was out of surgery and "comfortable", which sounded highly unlikely. Kensi's been with him all night."

"That doesn't surprise me." Nate sipped his coffee and looked around the room contentedly. It was good to be back. Even if there was one hell of a lot of work to be done. He wondered how the team would react to the news he had to tell them.


	19. Chapter 19

"How do I feel, Nate? You're seriously asking me that?"

"Yes, I am. Come on, Sam – work with me here. OSP's been through a hell of a lot in the past few months. Hetty brought me back to help you guys get through this."

"We're still in the middle of going through this. It's not over yet. Not by a long shot." Crossing his arms, Sam eyeballed Nate suspiciously. "As you very well know, Doc."

The operation had gone well, sure enough. However, Deeks had yet to regain consciousness. It had been three days now and although tests showed the pressure inside his skull had returned to normal, he remained in a coma. The MRI and CT scans had showed no abnormalities, no areas of bleeding, nothing that could account for this. It was, the doctors said, just one of those unfortunate things. They would have to wait for him to come around in his own time. Then again, the longer Deeks remained unconscious, the greater chance there was that he would never wake up.

"And how do you feel about that?"

"You want to take an educated guess? No? Alright, let me give you a few suggestions. Angry at Vance. Remorseful that it happened to Deeks. Guilty I wasn't there. Relieved that it wasn't me. That do you?"

"Not talking about things doesn't make them go away, Sam. What you're feeling is completely normal."

"It sure as hell doesn't feel normal. Can we stop this now? Please?"

Nate smiled, the easy smile designed to put patients at ease. It didn't work. "Sure. We'll talk again later."

Sam gave him a dark look. "Not if I have anything to say about it."

**Case Notes. Subject: S Hannah, Senior Field Agent, OSP/NCIS.**

_Subject is experiencing difficulties in processing recent events. Is frustrated with feelings of powerlessness. Considerable resistance to exploring feelings. Recommend continued observation and dialogue._

"Good morning, Kensi. How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine, Nate. Thanks for asking."

She didn't look fine. To Nate's professional eyes, Kensi looked fine-drawn and as taut as a bowstring. It look as if it would take much to make her snap.

"And this is Marty, is it? I've heard a lot about him. Good things."

"He's a good man." She was practically monosyllabic. All the usual sparkle and verve he associated with Kensi was gone.

"Tell me about him?" Nate invited. "Tell me how you feel about him?"

She looked at him with eyes that were suddenly soulless. "I feel half-dead. I can't think about anything except Marty. I don't know what I'll do if he doesn't wake up. I should have been there – I should have been there for him and I wasn't."

"That wasn't your fault, Kensi. Nobody's blaming you."

"I blame myself."

"You care a good deal for your partner, don't you?"

"Care about him? Nate, I love him."

**Case Notes. Subject: K Blye, Junior Field Agent, OSP/NCIS.**

_Subject is experiencing deep remorse. Has formed exceptionally close relationship with partner (wounded during operation, currently in non-responsive coma) and is consequently unable to act objectively at present. Recommend close observation. Query medical evaluation re clinical depression._

"Well, Doctor Getz? How are my agents holding up?"

"You've read the reports on my first two consultations, Hetty. How do you think they are doing?"

_Nicely done. Putting the ball back into my court._

"As well as can be expected? Would that be the correct medical terminology? Or would you suggest another term, perhaps? One you have not included in the rather brief notes you passed to me?"

_Game point, Hetty. Well played._

"It's still early days yet. I wouldn't want to be presumptive. These things take time. They need time. It's a cliché, but time is a great healer. They've got through bad times before and come back stronger than ever. Let's just all take some time out and see how things develop. And if we need to take action, we will."

_I do believe that was set point. A very deft manoeuvre that managed to say precisely nothing._

"While bowing to your professional opinion, I do notice that you have not broached certain issues. Such as Mr Hannah's resignation and physical assault on a senior colleague, not to mention Miss Blye's romantic attachment. It strikes me it would be productive to do address these before we meet again."

_Match point and new balls please._


	20. Chapter 20

"It's been a long time, Eric. How are you holding up?"

"Like I've got much choice in the matter, Nate? I do what I have to do, and then I get out of here. I'm not an agent: I'm the Technical Operator."

"You seem angry."

"Angry? Why should I be angry, Nate? Do you want to tell me, 'cos I can't figure out what's going on here. I mean, last year, I watched as Dom got shot. And died. Last month, Deeks got shot and then nearly died a couple of days later, while I was manning the comms relays. Last week, an operation goes sour, Vance screws up and nearly gets Deeks killed again, and guess what? I'm sitting here, watching and listening. Why on earth would I be angry?" Eric spoke in calm tones, he was smiling, his body language was entirely friendly, open and relaxed. And yet there was such pain in his words.

"Who do you talk to?"

"I talk to everyone. All these agents, no matter where they are, I'm always here. I'm their link. I'm the guy that makes it happen."

"And when you leave work – who do you talk to?"

"You are kidding, right? I can't talk about my work."

"Did you ever think that might be a problem?"

"I don't like problems I can't solve, Nate. My whole life, I've solved problems and found answers. Like I said, I'm the guy that makes it happen, the man with all the information."

"Would you like to talk to me?"

"Probably would be a good idea. Can't do any harm."

**Case Notes. Subject: E Beale, Technical Operator, OSP/NCIS.**

Subject exhibits slight passive aggressive tendencies, usually well-suppressed. Extreme feelings of isolation. Eager to please. Subjected to extreme stress and has no apparent release valve. Willing and co-operative. Recommend continued counselling.

"Is this a sneaky way to get me to counselling on the sly?" Callen asked suspiciously. "I don't do counselling, you know that, Nate."

Nate held his hands up in the air in a gesture of surrender. "No ulterior motives, Callen, I promise. I'm just trying to get a handle on Deeks. I never actually worked with him – the most we did was pass one another in the corridor and nod at each other. So help me here – let me get to know the guy. I really can't tell much about him at the moment, can I?"

Kensi had been forced to go home and get some sleep and callen had agreed to take her place at the hospital. Four days had now passed since, and still Deeks was unconscious. Already his skin was starting to lose its normal tan and a waxy pallor was taking its place. Occasionally he would mumble incoherently and seem agitated, and then the moment would pass and once again he would be lying still and unresponsive.

"He doesn't look much like our boy at the moment, that's for sure. Now Nate, I promise I will kill you if you ever breath a word of this, but Deeks is kind of like the kid brother I never had. He's smart and he gives as good as he gets and yet he's got that whole hero-worship thing going on, which is pretty flattering. He thinks on his feet, he's got this incredibly innocent air about him which opens a whole lot of doors – and he's just a good guy, Nate. He's part of the team."

Callen wandered over to the bed. "Doesn't like Deeks, not at the moment. Not with all those bandages. That's the first thing most people notice about him: his hair. Deeks' hair had this whole independent vibe going on – it's like shaggy-surfer meets little-boy tousled locks and women seem to adore it. Add that to his smile and those big blue eyes and you've got a pretty dandy package. So, seeing him like this, just lying there and not hearing him talk back with those quick remarks, it's like he's not there, that he's already gone."

_Come on, kid. It's time to wake up and get your lazy ass into gear. Come on, Marty, just open your eyes. Please?_

Nate picked up the chart from the foot of the bed and studied it carefully. "Why don't you tell me how you all first met Marty Deeks – how he joined the team?"

"That would be at the Blood and Guts Warriors Gym. My, they were an attractive bunch of battle-hardened Marines. And there was our boy, Marty, running a solo undercover operation right in the middle of them, with this half-assed cover story that LAPD must have spent all of five minutes creating. They gave him a fake drivers ID and pretty much nothing else. Left the guy wide open to being compromised and with no backup we could ever discover. That was how it started – Sam, Kensi and I working together, with all our support and resources and Marty, posing as Jason Wyler, the scrappy fighter, the underdog, all on his lonesome. Which was pretty much type-casting, as it turned out.

Embarrassingly enough, it took us a while to work out who he was. Even worse, he pretty much had Kensi pegged as a fake the moment she walked into the gym. All the other guys were drooling over her and there was Marty, challenging her and ruffling her feathers. She came off even worse the next time they met, and had to invent this ridiculous cover story of emailing nude photos of herself. I had to do some quick thinking to get her out of there, cos she was stuck with nowhere to go and Deeks was pushing her pretty hard. He just didn't buy any of her stories for a moment and kept pushing and pushing while she backtracked all over the shop.

Afterwards, when we were going over things, Sam and I started ribbing Kensi about how she was "smitten" with Wyler."

Callen broke off suddenly as a movement from the bed disturbed his chain of thought.

"Marty?"


	21. Chapter 21

Deeks tossed his head restlessly from side to side, mumbling incoherently.

"Marty – open your eyes. Just open your eyes for me, okay kid?"

Nate was at the door, calling for a doctor, but Callen ignored him. His entire focus was on the younger man lying fighting the tight bindings of unconsciousness. Leaning over the bed he placed one hand on either side of Deeks' face and held it still.

"Marty. It's Callen. Stop struggling and listen to me. I want you to open your eyes and look at me." His voice was low, firm and steady, but inside his guts were churning.

Deeks struggled weakly for a couple of moments before the message seemed to permeate through. "Wassup?" he managed groggily. "Tired. My head hurts."

"Nothing, everything's fine now," Callen said soothingly. "Just open your eyes and look at me. Then you can go back to sleep for as long as you want."

Reluctantly, Deeks cranked open one eye and squinted balefully at him. "Okay?"

"Sure. Good boy. You can go back to sleep now, buddy." A rush of medical personnel pushed him aside, but Callen didn't mind. Standing in the background, he could hear Deeks responding grumpily as they asked various questions. It seemed too good to be true. Pulling out his cell, he called in the news.

"Eric? You're gonna want to share this. Good news for once. Our boy finally woke up."

"Really? No kidding?"

"Come on. Give me a little credit. Would I joke about something like that? Deeks honestly woke up. Just a moment ago. You want to tell Hetty and the others? Let them know I'm going swing on by Kensi's place and tell her in person."

Ending the call, Callen suddenly realised the room was spinning. He gave a small gasp and staggered slightly. In an instant, Nate was at his side.

"Take it easy. You've been under a hell of a lot of strain these last few days."

"I'm fine," Callen protested, trying to push Nate away.

"I know you are. But sometimes even you can't cope with everything, G. It's not a sign of weakness to admit that you care. And no, I am not counselling you. I'm talking to you as a friend, that's all."

Sometimes it was easier to keep going rather than to admit defeat. No matter how much crap happened, you shouldered it and you kept on going. You didn't let anyone get close, because then you gave them the power to hurt you. So you distanced yourself over and over and over again and told yourself you were fine, even when you were dying inside. And then something else happened, and life snuck up on you from behind and the simplest thing knocked you for six and you were as helpless as a kitten.

Callen looked at Nate for long time and felt this incredible rush of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. He felt completely helpless.

"It's alright, G. I'm here. I understand. You can let go now. Everything's alright. Everything is just fine."

And then Callen did something he had not done for many years, far less in another man's arms: he broke down and wept.


	22. Chapter 22

Most of the time, Kensi didn't bother too much with housework. As long as she had enough clean clothes to wear and the sink wasn't actually piled high with dishes, she did the bare minimum. There was always dust around, whether you dusted once a day, once a week or once a month. Or not at all. Besides which, she was usually exhausted by the time she got back from the Mission and just wanted to chill out in the evenings, not spend her time running around doing efficient things with various cleaning products, none of which ever worked as well in reality as they did on TV. Besides which, hardly anyone ever came around visiting anyway.

Luckily, her rented apartment was small and only had the bare essentials actually required for daily living. Other than a few gifts and some possessions from her childhood home, Kensi had not bothered to add many personal touches. It never took more than a couple of hours to give the entire place a complete spring clean. So why had she been up since 3am last night, scrubbing every square inch of the place? Nate would probably say she was trying to repress her thoughts, or that it was a displacement activity or some other piece of psycho-babble. All Kensi knew was that she couldn't sleep and her apartment looked as if a dust-bomb had exploded in it. So it made perfect sense to be crawling around on her hands and knees and using an entire quart of bleach on her tiny kitchen. Didn't it?

_I miss you, Marty. I miss you so much. There's so many things I want to say to you. Things I should have said a long time ago._

She sat back on her haunches and surveyed the gleaming floor tiles. Good enough? What would her Dad have said if he heard her using that phrase?

"_It's either right, or it's wrong, Kensi Marie. There are no half measures in the Marine Corps. "Good enough" is not good enough!"_

She could still hear his voice, even after all these years. All she'd ever wanted was to please her father. Being a Marine brat wasn't easy – you moved around all over the place. But she and her mother had never complained. The Corps was still a huge part of their lives, but until her father had died, it had the entire focus of the entire family.

Thinking back, Kensi could remember a whole series of houses around the country, on different Marine bases. Each one exactly the same, so that no matter if you were in North Carolina or Virginia or California, you knew the exact layout of the next house you were going to move into, right down to the number of shelves in the kitchen pantry. Thousands of homes, on the east and west coasts, all cookie-cutter replicas of one another. Each pending move had meant weeks of cleaning and painting and generally make the house look as perfect as possible before they moved out. This was a source of pride among Marine wives and none of them wanted their husbands to be saddled with the reputation of a wife who couldn't be bothered. Of course, no matter how clean the next house you moved to was, the same flurry of activity had to take place before you could actually move in.

Kensi had been an awkward child: plump and inclined to fall over her own feet. Her father had spent hours on the softball field with her, patiently throwing a ball back and forth and till finally she managed to catch it in her mitt. And then he showered her with praise and love. She'd never quite fitted in, no matter where they moved to, no matter how hard she'd tried. So she spent hours with her Dad instead. Whenever he was off-duty, she would be at his side, eager to do whatever he was doing. She could change the oil in a car by the time she was seven. By the time she was 14, he'd finally managed to teach her how to shoot straight enough to go hunting squirrels with him in the Virginia woods. Rather than admit she didn't have a date for the senior prom, Kensi had persuaded her father to take her camping for a whole week and teach her how to live off the land.

She should have joined the Corps. So many of the other kids she grown up around did. But Kensi didn't want to be compared with her father, for his memory to be brought up and for her to fall short in one way or another. So she made her own track in life, but she'd never quite escaped from the shadow of the Marines, even to this day.

There was one way, and one way only to iron a regulation shirt. Her mother had spent hours making sure her father's shirts were perfectly laundered. Appearance was important in the Corps: people judged you on how you looked, how your house looked and even how your kids looked. Kensi always made sure she looked perfectly turned out, no matter what the occasion. It helped having an incredible wardrobe of clothes at work she could use for different occasions. So why was she so drawn to this scruffy guy, who looked like he'd picked up the first thing from a pile of clothes left on the floor and never bothered to shave from one week to the next? How come she was wearing his "Surf's Up" t-shirt and wrapping her arms tightly around herself, pretending that he was holding her, rather than lying unconscious in a hospital bed? Why had she fallen in love with someone whose own background was light-years apart from her own? And how was she ever going to manage to find the strength to keep living if he didn't get better?

Kensi's father had been a huge movie buff and whenever there was a wet weekend, they would curl up on the couch together and have a movie marathon. Her childhood was punctuated with black and white films from the golden age of Hollywood. There was sure to be one on TV now, she thought, some perfect piece of nostalgia that would make her feel better. Flicking through the channels, she settled on and finally settled on Broadway Melody. Pure escapism. Grabbing a can of soda and a pack of chips, she settled down to watch.

Five minutes later, she was weeping. Not crying, but weeping. Tears rolling down her face, sobs wrenching at her lungs. And in the background, Judy Garland continued to sing sweetly:

_You made me love you  
>I didn't wanna do it, I didn't wanna do it.<br>You made me love you  
>and all the time you knew it, I guess you always knew it.<em>


	23. Chapter 23

She had held on for so long, but now Kensi couldn't stop crying. What was the point in pretending any more? Why not just give into her abject misery and make it ten times worse by watching _Jerry Maguire_, with its wonderful line "You had me at hello"? and its themes of unrequited love, love lost and love found. Why wasn't real life like the movies?

Sure, Marty didn't have her at hello. He had her way before that, pretty much from the first moment she'd walked in to Blood and Guts Warriors' gym and spotted him lurking in the background, standing out not only because he was the only guy not wearing black, but because he of the shining golden mop of hair that was such a contract to the clean-cut Marines. When they were introduced and she'd smiled and flirted with the other guys, Marty been the only one to esist her charms. And that had made her even more interested in him. Kensi wasn't interested in an easy conquest – she'd had plenty of those over the years. This guy was a challenge and she was highly competitive. Only her great plan hadn't worked out quite that way. Sure, she'd had an immediate physical attraction to him and had thought in terms of a brief encounter, maybe lasting two or three weeks at the most, but things hadn't worked out that way. She'd never reckoned on falling in love with him. That hadn't been part of her plan at all.

Okay, at first it hadn't been love at first sight, it had pretty much been lust, pure and simple. Of course Callen and Sam had picked up on that pretty damned quickly, once they'd seen the way her eyes sort of glazed over when they put up that driver's license he'd got in the name of Jason Wyler on the big screen. That should have alerted them from the start – who ever looked as good as that in a normal DMV mugshot? The guys knew her weaknesses pretty well by now, so Callen had made a crack about Deeks' baby blues while Sam had commented on his "fluffy" hair.

Still, she'd tried to pretend she didn't feel this incredible towards him. But last month, when they'd really talked for the first time, when he'd finally let down all the barriers he'd erected so carefully over the years, that was when Kensi knew she was in love. And later, when Marty had hauled himself out of his hospital bed and dragged himself outside to protect her, Kensi had realised that, if he died, a part of her would die right alongside him. The other day, she'd been able to tell Nate that she loved Marty – why hadn't she been able to tell him?

There was someone banging on her front door and shouting. "Kensi! Is everything alright in there? Answer the door or I'm going to break it down."

Oh God, it was Callen. There was only one reason he would be coming to see her. Still, her father had brought her up to face adversity head on. She was a Blye, after all was said and done. Stiffening her resolve, Kensi walked to the door and opened it.

Callen took one look at her tear stained face and red, swollen eyes and pulled her into a hug. "You look like you could do with some good news," he whispered into her ear.

"Good news?" her voice was barely above a whisper.

"He's alright, Kensi. Marty's alright."

And her heart began to soar.

"Come on, we're going over to the hospital."

Suddenly she was hesitant, aware of what a mess she was in, physically and emotionally.

"Come on," he coaxed. "He'll want to see you more than anyone else. And he'll think you looks absolutely beautiful. Even if you are wearing his shirt. Which Eric told us about, by the way. Not exactly subtle, Kensi!"

Kensi began to cry again, but this time, her tears were of happiness.


	24. Chapter 24

Hetty had a fascination with quotations, dating back to her childhood. She liked to think she had a quotation for every occasion. In this case, at least two came readily to mind: "oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive" was vying neck and neck with "the best laid plans of mice and men go oft awry." On reflection, she thought that in this particular instance, Burns probably had it by a short nose. Closing her well-thumbed Oxford Dictionary of Quotation, she thought back to the day when she had first received it, an "unbirthday" present from Uncle Oliver. Jessamine had been given a silver bracelet, but who would have thought to give plain, bookish little Hetty such a gift? Not that she was known as Hetty in those days of course. It was just that it was easier to stick to one name now. It avoided unnecessary confusion and she was partial to orderliness.

Jessamine had been dead for over twenty years now and her only child, Maryanne Brandel had also died young. As she grew older, Hetty thought more and more about all the happy times the family had spent together over the years. And when fate had placed Marty Deeks right in the middle of an NCIS investigation it had seemed like too good an opportunity to miss. So Hetty had made a couple of calls and the deal was done. Marty Deeks became the first LAPD/NCIS liaison officer. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. The boy had talent, no doubt about that: he had one f the best arrest records in the department. He'd shown he could work without backup and could run a long-term infiltration exercise. And winning 19 of mixed martial arts fights meant that he could look after himself. Yes, it had seemed like the perfect solution.

And now Hetty didn't know what to think. This was possibly the worst lapse in judgement she had ever made. Through her actions, Marty had nearly been killed, not once, but twice. Sometimes it was very hard to live with the decisions one had to make and the consequences that resulted from those decisions. She held so many lives in her hands and sometimes the weight became almost unbearable. Perhaps she was getting too old for all this? Perhaps it was time to move on, let a younger person take her place?

And then Hetty recalled Leon Vance, the man who had once been the bright young hope, the man touched with grace, who never seemed to put a foot wrong. The politically astute man, who had lost touch with the reality of what the men and women under his command had to deal with every day. It had been a long time since Leon had been sullied by the filthy underbelly of society. And tellingly, Leon was the only NCIS agent she could think of who had a wife and children. That was a luxury most agents had to sacrifice. Somehow Leon had managed the impossible. At what price, she ondered.

This was no game for young people to play. Hetty had been young when she had first entered the exclusive world of espionage – and look at the result. She could recall the face of every single person she had killed, whether directly or indirectly but the faces of those she had saved by her actions, although legion, were simply blanks. That was the irony – you could identify the bad, but not the good. There had been no place for family in her life, there was never even a choice. And here she was, getting older and all alone, with only her memories for companionship. It would have been nice to have a child. She had always looked at Maryanne and thought "if only you were my daughter". And yet she had directly recruited Maryanne's son, Marty, into this same business. Did she really want the same life for him? What had she been thinking of?

Hetty gave herself a shake: melancholia, that condition that had fascinated previous generations, had no place in her life. She had made her decisions and, right or wrong, she would stand by them. As Edith Piaf had so memorably sang, "Non, Je ne regrette rien." Hetty's will stipulated that song was to be played at her funeral. She liked to make sure everything was in order at all times. She hated it when things went wrong.

"He sure sleeps a lot," Sam comented. "Guess he thinks we've got nothing better to do than sit around here all day."

"What else do you possibly have to do? Apart from go through the "help wanted" ads?" callen asked in a reasonable tone. "You do remember that you resigned from NCIS, don't you? In that meeting we had with the late, unlamented Leon Vance? You resigned about thirty seconds before you punched him in the face?"

"Hetty knows I wasn't serious." He saw the look on Callen's face and reconsidered. "Oh come on G, you're kidding me right?"

"Mind keeping the noise down? I'm trying to die quietly here," Deeks said petulantly from the bed. "You can quibble about where and when Sam's going to sign on for unemployment later. Preferably somewhere else."

"Nice to see you awake, man!" Sam's face was wreathed in smiles.

"Thanks. Good to be back. I think. You want to tell me what happened? All the doctors have said so far is that I was in "an incident", which could mean anything from falling my own feet to getting blown up by a car bomb. And please, don't tell of it was something embarrassing. I'd rather die in ignorance."

"You're not going to die," Kensi said, catching the end of this as she came back in. Callen noticed she'd got some make-up from somewhere and looked much more like her normal self. "I won't let you die." She kissed him on the forehead before taking a seat at the bedside and taking a firm grip of his hand.

Callen tried very hard not to laugh aloud at the slightly stunned look on Deeks' face, before returning to more serious matters. "How much do you remember?"

Deeks thought for a moment, his brows furrowing with concentration. "Nell and I were leaving the board meeting. We knew the file transfer was almost complete and we were going to bail on the rest of the meeting and get our tails out of there. There was this huge debate on new accounting methods coming up next and I was really keen to stay, but Nell insisted we should leave. I'll have to make sure they send me the minutes, so I don't to miss a single exciting detail. Gotta love those accountants with all their facts and figures. And after that, it's pretty much a blank until last night."

"Put it this way," Kensi said, "After what went down, I don't think having a debate on accounting procedures was exactly anyone's first priority."


	25. Chapter 25

"You want to fill me in?" Deeks asked, for the second time in just a couple of minutes, he seemed to recall. Unless his short-term memory was failing him too.

"The short version is that you and Nell were made. Someone discovered what was going on and was determined to shut down the file transfer before it was complete, by whatever means possible. So basically, they jumped you."

Nell took over the story. "We were on the way to the elevator, when this guy made a grab for my laptop. And while you were stopping him, his partner came up from behind and hit you over the head. Really hard. You went straight down."

Deeks raised a tentative hand to the bandages encircling his head. "That's when I got the head injury, I suppose. Makes sense why I don't remember anything after the meeting. So what happened next?"

She couldn't look at him, so great was her sense of shame. "I'm really sorry about this, but all I could think was that I had to keep the laptop running. That I couldn't let them shut it down before the program was complete. I knew the protective casing was really tough, so I whacked my guy over the head with it, and then I sort of kneed him where it hurt and started running. And I'm so, so sorry Marty! I feel really bad about what happened and…"

"You kicked him in the family jewels?" Deeks sounded incredulous. "Way to go, Nell! You did exactly the right thing getting out of there. That's what any agent would do." He flashed a grin at her, and for a moment he looked so much like the old Marty, that it completely did for her.

Nell's face crumpled and she started to cry.. "But I left you behind. I could hear they were hurting you and it sounded really bad and I just left you there." She wiped away the tears with the back of her hand and gave a loud sniff. "And I wish I'd done something different, that I'd helped you but I was so scared."

A large, very muscular arm pulled her into an embrace. "Didn't you hear what the man said? You did the right thing. Exactly the right thing. And don't you forget it. Okay?"

AS her face was buried in Sam's equally muscular torso, Nell's next words were rather muffled. "Okay. But I feel bad…" she moaned.

"You'll feel worse after Sam sends you his dry-cleaning bill," Callen said. "That pink lipstick you were wearing is now all over his shirt."

"My favourite shirt. Or rather it was."

Nell gave a guilty start and jumped back, almost about to begin apologising all over again until she realised that he was only joking. And the teasing felt good because she realised that was a part of their team.

"Okay, so I'm out for the count, Nell's running like there's no tomorrow – and? Talk about cliffhangers."

The mood in the room suddenly changed. "They worked you over pretty well," Callen said after a long silence. "They smacked your head on the floor a good few times and the doctors reckoned you were lucky not to lose your spleen from the beating they gave you. You were in a hell of a state when Sam and I finally got to you

It took a while for Deeks to absorb all this. "So it was personal then?"

"It was personal. We knew it had to be an inside job. They knew exactly where to hit you – they must have known about the surgery and that narrows it down a lot."

"To the board, you mean." His tone was bleak. "So who was it then – Manson?"

This was the part Callen had been dreading. "Almost right. He was involved , right along with Gina Donald, his lover. They were hoping to asset-strip Brandel Holdings after the news about the Overlock failure went public. It was all about money – and when you got in the way, they decided you were just too inconvenient. Hence the ambush."

Deeks shook his head and then gave a yelp of pain. "Sorry – keep forgetting about that. Although the thumping headache should be a giveaway. But Gina – she used to give me birthday and Christmas presents. She even came to my graduation."

"We reckon Mason targeted her on purpose," Sam confirmed. "The lonely career woman, ripe for romance. Looking back into his past employment, we turned up two other similar incidents. Man's a snake. Your Gina really thought she'd found love at last – she was putty in his hands. And now she's horrified. She said they were only supposed to restrain you, not beat you half to death. I kind of believe her. Seemed like she used to be a nice lady, before her head got turned."

"She was. I really liked her."

"Anyone tell him about his hair yet?" Callen asked, giving Sam a meaningful look.

Deeks glared at him suspiciously. "What about my hair?"

Sam picked up the ball and started to run with it. "Well, you know you had a head injury right?"

"Yeah – so they had to cut away some hair for stitches, right?"

"Not exactly. You had to have surgery – brain surgery. And you must have seen those TV shows, how they shave the patients' head beforehand?" He tossed the verbal ball over to Callen, who caught it deftly and started running for the touchline.

"Welcome the club, brother! Never felt right that you had all that hair flopping around all over the place. Now you'll look like part of the team – more like me and Sam."

Deeks looked incredulous. "They-shaved-my –freaking-HEAD?" He glared at them, then raised himself up slightly, only to collapse back onto the pillows just as rapidly, with a guttural choking noise, as his eyes rolled back in his head so that only the whites were showing.


	26. Chapter 26

"What the hell have you done?" Kensi yelled at Sam and Callen, who were exchanging looks of pure, unrestrained panic. While Callen was rooted to the spot, Sam actually took a couple of steps back. Deeks continued to choke and gag but now his eyes were rolling about horribly.

"You idiots!" Kensi bawled. Under the circumstances, she felt that was quite restrained. If Deeks had not retained his firm grip of her hand throughout his performance, she would not have been responsible for what she'd said. She was highly tempted to throw herself on his chest and start sobbing loudly, but remembered his broken ribs just in time. Instead, she contened herself with throwing a furious glare at the two agents and then caught sight of Nell. The younger woman looked completely terrified and Kensi realised the joke had gone too far

"Okay Marty, that's enough." She gave his hand a firm squeeze to let him know she meant business. "You're upsetting Nell.

His eyes returned to normal in an instance. "Sorry about that, Nell. But you guys deserved that. That was really below the belt. If that neurosurgeon hadn't been in earlier to inspect his handiwork, you could have really had me going."

"And don't even think about trying to get him back for that – or I'll set Nell onto you," Kensi warned, pulling the fiercest face she could. "So back off or you'll be hobbling around for a week - you know her preferred method of dealing with anyone who hurts Deeks."

Callen looked at them could never resist having a final quip. "Is it just me, or do Deeks and Kensi have that whole Brat Pitt/Angelina Jolie _"Mr and Mrs Smith"_ vibe going on?"

* * *

><p>"Good day at the office, Fern sweetie?<p>

"How many times to I have to tell you I hate that name? It sounds like a hooker."

"Takes me back to when we first met and you made up that story about emailing those dirty photos of yourself to Daniel Zuma. I couldn't sleep for a week after that." He tilted his head back and looked up at her, eyes crinkling in the hot sun that beat down onto the patio. "You look tired."

"You look like you've done nothing but lie here in the sun all day." Kensi kicked off her shoes and let out a small sigh of pleasure. "It was a long day. We really miss you."

"I know you do."

"You really are a conceited pig sometimes."

"Yeah, but you still love me. Don't you?"

"You know I do. Want me to rub some lotion on you?"

Marty Deeks let out a low groan. "You know how to say all the right things, Fern."

**THE END**

To be continued in FORMER GLORY


End file.
